


Until we bleed

by trinipedia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Challenge Response, Community: spn_j2_bigbang, Fanfiction, M/M, SPN - Freeform, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:18:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/pseuds/trinipedia
Summary: There are worse curses than making whoever touches you horny as hell, or so Dean would have thought until it happened to him. At first, he shamelessly takes advantage of it, only to discover, in the worst way possible, that the one man he really wants is Sam. Despite the feelings he is already harboring, Sam runs away, leaving Dean to face it all on his own; when his life is repeatedly saved by an enigmatic figure in a mask, who can touch Dean without being affected by the curse, it raises more questions than answers. The truth will open Dean's eyes and force him to see what has always been right under his nose. Now he can only hope it's not too late.





	1. Fall apart in parts

**Author's Note:**

> **Amazingly Amazing Artist:** Saint [](http://deadflowers5.livejournal.com/profile)[deadflowers5](http://deadflowers5.livejournal.com/) again! [ART MASTERPOST](http://deadflowers5.livejournal.com/100942.html) (spoilers for the story)
> 
>  **Beta:** [](http://free-pirate.livejournal.com/profile)[free_pirate](http://free-pirate.livejournal.com/) who saved my ass once again. It's not possible for me to express in words what my Berrybear means to me, so I won't even try.  
>   
>  **Disclaimer:** Not mine in any way, shape or form. Based on the British TV show "Misfits", so if there's anything you think you recognize, I probably didn't write it. Fic's title from Kleerup's [song](http://www.4shared.com/audio/NwQli3CX/Until_We_Bleed__With_Lykke_Li_.html), chapters' titles from Massive Attack's [Paradise Circus](http://www.4shared.com/audio/45xSFLLt/Massive_Attack_-_Paradise_Circ.html). Written for the [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[spn_j2_bigbang](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) challenge.  
>   
> 

  
It took some time for Dean to catch onto it. And not because, as many always said, he was the less smart brother. Sam didn't catch onto it either, after all. It was not because he was full of himself.   
  
Okay, maybe a little.  
  
Be that as it may, lots of girls (and a few boys, if we want to be honest) had always dropped their panties and spread their legs for him, and he didn't even have to ask most of the time. He was a hot son of a bitch, and that was a fact.  
  
That's why he didn't find it so weird when a couple of girls actually threw themselves at him as soon as he got close enough.  
  
He did start to have his doubts when a redneck homophobe fell down on his knees and begged Dean to let him suck his cock, though. From the expression on Sam's face, he was not the only one to find it a little bit strange.

 

  
"A curse?" Dean's eyes went wide and Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Dean..."  
  
"A _curse_?!" he repeated, his voice slightly high-pitched.  
  
"I don't know who you pissed off this time, but it must have been some fuck up of epic proportions because there's no way, no how to undo this," Sam tried to explain.   
  
"Bobby looked, I looked, Hell, Ash looked. No luck."  
  
Dean's shocked expression morphed into a huge grin. "You must be out of your mind, Sammy," he said. "This is no curse, this is a fucking _blessing_! Everyone I touch wants to have sex with me? Fuck yeah! That means I'll always get laid, whenever I want and with whoever I want! I won the fucking lottery!"  
  
He threw both his fists in the air, grabbed his leather jacket and the keys to the Impala and all but ran out of the motel room, stopping just long enough to tell Sam not to wait up for him. As soon as the door slammed closed behind him, Sam groaned and hid his face in his hands.  
He should have expected Dean to have this reaction, but it didn't sting any less.  
  
Besides, he knew his brother was not stupid; he'd figure out how bad the situation really was soon enough, so he could let him enjoy it, for a while. It was not the moment to be selfish.

 

  
_"I've got to have sex with you, right now."  
  
"You're so fucking beautiful...Let's go, let's do it now."  
  
"You're so hot! Bone me, God, bone me, fuck me senseless!"   
  
"Gonna make it so good for you, I promise, just-rip my clothes off, piss on my tits, I beg of you."_

 

  
All was good and dandy, at first. Dean was getting laid more than he ever had, and that was saying something. But as it often happened to the Winchesters, that bliss didn't last.  
  
Soon enough, Dean started to feel like something was not right, like he didn't really want to be there, and that was just ridiculous because, come on! He was Dean fucking Winchester, for fuck's sake!  
  
And then, one night, everything crumbled.  
  
Sam hadn't come out with him; despite not being okay with Dean's slutty act, he didn't feel like leaving his older brother alone, especially while he was under a curse. They couldn't be sure there weren't going to be other collateral effects, at some point.  
  
That night, though, Sam told him to go by himself. Said he was tired of being left alone at a corner table as Dean made another skank scream in the bathroom stall. Dean mocked him endlessly for it, but couldn't really blame him.  
  
If their roles had been reversed, he wouldn't have wanted to witness Sam scoring either; in fact, the idea alone made his stomach clench and his temples pound, so he decided to shrug away the thought and focus on the redhead ordering a beer right in front of him. She had a perky ass and a ridiculously short skirt; Dean had too much going on in his mind, and he really didn't feel like picking her up. Too much hassle.  
  
Besides, she was basically half naked, he only had to pick a spot to touch.

 

  
"...well, I didn't see this coming" the girl chuckled, climbing off of Dean's lap and pulling his skirt down. She blushed. "Oh, don't get me wrong, you're hot and everything, it's just that I, er." She bit her lower lip, his gaze shifting. "I don't usually do this kind of thing. I have a husband, and I'm not the cheating type."  
  
Dean stared at her, as she walked to the bathroom mirror on wobbly legs and tried to fix her appearance; with her make up smudged, her cheeks flushed and her hair unruly she didn't look that pretty anymore.  
  
He felt the familiar pull at the stomach and groaned inwardly.  
  
"You with anyone?" she asked, trying to keep the mood light, and Dean blinked. Of course he wasn't. He never was.  
  
Suddenly, Sam's concerned expression popped into his mind, and Dean shook his head violently. What the fuck was wrong with him?  
  
The girl walked up to him, tapping him on his (thankfully) denim-covered knee. "You know what's really weird? I don't remember us having sex," she said, frowning. "Because we had sex, right? I can still feel your-"  
  
"Can't you just _go_ , dammit?" Dean interrupted her, growling through gritted teeth, and the girl flinched, taken aback.  
  
"Sure, I-yeah." She turned and left, nothing in her wake but some disgustingly sweet flowery perfume.  
  
Dean took his head in his hands and tried to calm down, breathing deeply, but all he could breathe was his sweat and her scent, and it didn't really help. He felt cheap, and dirty, and he really didn't understand why.  
  
This had been nothing different from what he had been doing all his life, why was he beating himself up about it, all of a sudden? Then, the bathroom door creaked open.  
  
"Hey, everything okay in there?" the friendly voice of the bartender cut through Dean's confusion. He lifted his eyes and was met with earnest, hazel eyes and floppy hair.  
  
 _Fuck it_ he thought.  
  
"Sure," he replied. "I just need a drink. Or twenty."·  
  
The bartender smiled. "You're my last customer tonight," he said. "Come on."  
  
Dean stood up, cleaning his palms on his jeans. Maybe if he drank enough, this was going to be exactly what he needed to get it out of his system and get over it all.

 

  
Dean staggered in the room around three in the morning, stinking of cheap perfume, stale beer and sex.  
  
"You all right?" Sam asked, sleepily, lifting his head from the pillow and turning towards him.  
  
Dean breath hitched, and his dick gave a twitch. _So_ not over it. Sam shifted under the covers, his warmth calling at Dean, and Dean was too tired, too horny, too drunk to resist it.  
  
"Never better, little brother, never better," he slurred, with a dirty smirk that got lost in the darkness.  
  
"Go to bed, we're here to hunt, remember?" Sam retorted, bitterly, before turning his back on Dean and trying to go back to sleep.  
  
"That an invitation, Sammy?" Dean grinned, moving towards him.  
  
And with that, Sam was wide awake. He stood perfectly still, frozen in place, when Dean sat on his bed.  
  
"How come you never talk about Stanford, uh? I happen to know students do lots of-experimentation, in there," he inquired, his voice low and raspy.  
  
Sam shivered. "There's nothing to talk about," he answered, hating how hoarse his voice sounded.  
  
Dean chuckled. "See, that just makes me more curious," he added, shifting closer. A weird, unsettling feeling was pooling in the bottom of Sam's stomach, and he just wanted it to be over.  
  
"You're drunk," he protested, but Dean just hummed.  
  
"Come on, give it up, baby. Nothing to lose."  
  
Sam swallowed. "I did experiment some," he started, in a whisper. "Me and my roommate. Nothing major."  
  
"Enough for you to realize you liked cock, though." He could hear Dean's grin even if he couldn't see it, and it made him feel naked even if he was wearing a wife beater and sweatpants under the covers. Dean's breathing made it hard for him to think.  
  
"That's enough," he growled. "Go to bed and sleep it off."  
  
Instead of standing up, though, Dean undid his laces and Sam heard the sound of his boots falling on the floor, one after the other, and it echoed in the room like gunshots. "You're still thinking about him?" Dean asked, and Sam felt compelled to answer.  
  
"I was with _a girl_ , remember? I don't cheat."  
  
Dean chuckled again. "Good boy." He sounded pleased.  
  
"So, you're not with anyone?"  
  
"You know I'm not, Dean, who would I be with?!" Sam hissed through gritted teeth, but the breath got stuck in his throat when Dean crawled on him, straddling his hips from above the covers.  
  
"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked, panicking slightly because his older brother was too close for comfort, especially in his current situation.  
  
"You know what I'm doing, baby," Dean purred, his fingers skirting right an inch away from Sam's naked arm. "I know you want to. All I have to do is touch you."  
  
Sam swallowed, but didn't dare moving. "D-don't" he stuttered, and Dean moved impossibly closer, so that Sam could feel his warm breath against his cheek.  
  
"I could have you, Sammy. Any time I want, any place I want. There's nothing you could do-or _would_ do to stop me."  
  
"Quit fucking around, Dean, leave it!" Sam snapped, trying to pull back and away without touching Dean, but Dean narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Stop being such a prude, Sammy, that's a big turn off."  
  
Sam shook his head once more and opened his mouth to say something, anything that would make Dean go back to his senses, but before he could Dean grabbed his neck and crushed their lips together.  
  
A wave of desire hit Sam like a punch in the guts, and all his defenses crumbled down at the same instant, leaving him exposed and needy. "Fuck, Dean," he moaned, curling his arms around his older brother's neck and kicking away the covers to pull his body flushed against his own.  
  
"You're so fucking beautiful," he panted as Dean nipped playfully at his jaw. Then Dean's hands were inside his sweatpants, groping and kneading at his ass, making Sam whimper and hump Dean's thigh.  
  
"Easy, tiger," Dean purred, licking his earlobe. "Gonna fuck you nice and hard, just like you want it. No need to rush through it." He had already removed his jacket and over shirt, and Sam almost ripped his t-shirt in the haste of getting it off and touch Dean's skin.  
  
"So perfect, Dean, fuck, so damn perfect," he whined. "Touch me, please."  
  
Dean smirked, and claimed Sam's mouth in another bruising kiss as he single handedly undid his jeans and got his cock out. He tried to reach for his duffle, on the other side of the bed, but Sam stopped him.  
  
"Sammy, I gotta-"  
  
Sam shook his head, as he licked one of his palms and wrapped it around Dean's leaking dick. "Want you like this," he pleaded, "no condom, no lube, just you, yeah?"  
  
Dean's eyes rolled in the back of his head at those words. His little brother was sexier and hotter than he had any right to be, and suddenly he wanted inside Sam so badly he could barely breathe.  
  
"Suck," he ordered, prying Sam's swollen lips open and pushing two fingers inside. Sam obeyed, licking and sucking at Dean's fingers until there was saliva dripping down his wrist.  
As Dean guided those fingers to Sam's hole, Sam kept blabbering about how he was always thinking about Dean, and how much he wanted to be the one Dean fucked, every time Dean left for a hook up.  
  
"Wanna be with you," he groaned, and Dean chuckled breathlessly, as he started fingering Sam's ass.  
  
"I know you do, baby. Come on, show me. Open up for me like a good boy." Sam fluttered around his fingers, then let out a keeny, mewly sound, and Dean couldn't help the feral, hungry growl he answered with.  
  
"Gotta take you now," he hissed. "Gotta have you now." Sam nodded fervently, grabbing Dean's shoulders for leverage, and Dean just spit in his palm, slicking his dick as much as he could before slamming it home in a long, slow thrust.  
  
Sam clenched around him like a vice, and Dean groaned in pain, but he could see how hard his little brother was trying to relax for him. "That's it, Sammy, that's it. Let me in."  
  
Sam took a few quick breaths, as deep as he could manage, and his body started to give way.  
Dean pulled back and then he was all in again, starting a punishing rhythm that made the bed creak and Sam moan so loud it was a miracle no one had come to complain yet.  
  
Not like he would have stopped if someone did, anyway.  
  
"Fuck," Sam cursed, his head thrown back and his whole body taut in the effort of responding to Dean's thrusts. "Harder, Dean, harder, fuck." He was babbling, probably didn't even know what he was saying, but he was such a sight that Dean had to close his eyes to stop himself from coming.  
  
Didn't help much, though, because even without the visual stimulation fucking Sam felt so incredible that he couldn't really hope he'd hang on much longer. He threw a dozen more hard thrusts inside Sam's body and then wrapped his hand around his brother's dick.  
  
"Wanna come, baby? Wanna come all over me?" he purred, biting Sam's Adam's apple.  
  
"Yeah," Sam answered, voice raspy and uneven. "Want to. Need to. Oh fuck, Dean, you gonna fill me up."  
  
Dean worried the skin under his teeth until there was a purplish mark there, for Sam to see and remember and for him to get hard all over again on, then rubbed the callous pad of his thumb against the head of Sam's cock.  
  
"Do it, then," he ordered, "Come for me."  
  
Sam arched his back and obeyed, ribbon after ribbon of come landing on Dean's chest and stomach, sticky fluid proof of how badly his baby brother got off on getting fucked by him, and Dean lost it.  
  
He grabbed Sam's hip so hard that he probably bruised him and forced his cock as far inside as he could go, before unloading with a loud groan he tried to suffocate biting Sam's shoulder.

 

  
Everything went to Hell as soon as Dean slid out and away to get cleaned. He heard Sam's sharp intake of breath, and before he could reach the bathroom, Sam beat him to it, slamming the door shut.  
  
He heard how Sam dropped on his knees and puked his guts out.  
  
"That is wrong," he was growling. "That is so fucking _wrong_!"  
  
"Don't freak out, Sammy," he tried to soothe him, but the door slammed open and Sam was in his face.  
  
"You can't be doing that to people, you selfish prick! Especially not to your own fucking _brother_!" Dean flinched at how hurt Sam sounded, but shook his head nonetheless. His brother was being melodramatic, it was not a big deal.  
  
"Trust me, you enjoyed it," he retorted, "You enjoyed it a whole lot."  
  
He dipped the tip of his fingers through Sam's rapidly cooling come on his stomach and then showed them to him. "See?"  
  
Sam looked like he was about to puke again. "That wasn't me, you asshole, and if you don't understand the difference then there's something really wrong with you."  
  
Dean frowned. "You were so up for it," he protested. "You kept telling me how hot I am, and how much you wanted to be with me, and then-"  
  
Sam clenched his fists so tight his knuckles went white, and for a moment Dean thought he would get a punch in the face. "Fuck, Dean, when I want to tell you something, I'll tell you myself! You have no fucking clue about what I'm feeling!"  
  
"Maybe I'm not the only sick freak in this family," Dean snapped. "I see how you look at me, college boy."  
  
Sam was shaking in rage. "Well, don't worry," he hissed. "I won't be looking at you any more." He stormed back in the room, and got dressed as fast as he could, not really looking at what he was putting on.  
  
It was so obvious that he just wanted to be _gone_ that dread started gnawing at Dean's stomach. "Yes, you will!" he replied, trying to sound confident and not so fucking terrified, and Sam stopped on his way to the door.  
  
"You know what your problem is?" he said, without turning. "You think that since you're beautiful you can treat people any way you want."  
  
"Well, that's pretty much how the world works, Sammy," Dean retorted, bitterly. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"  
  
Sam's back went stiff. "You're so fucked up in the head," he murmured, and it sounded like sadness and regret. "And you don't even know it."  
  
It was only when the door slammed closed behind him that Dean allowed his legs to give out.

 

  
"You all right?" Sam lifted his eyes from his cup of coffee, and saw the bartender standing next to his booth.  
  
"I'm fine," he replied, automatically. "Do I need to order something else? I'm sorry, I was-"  
  
He shook his head, smiling. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm a really good listener."  
  
Sam sighed. "Just...wrong judgment, that's all. I'm not the one night stand type."  
  
The bartender blinked. "Funny you said that," he said, sitting on the other side. "I don't usually do that kind of thing either. And apparently sometimes I don't even actually remember having, you know, the sex."  
  
Sam cringed, with a vague idea of what the guy was talking about, but before he could ask the bell on the door chimed and Dean walked in. Sam glared at him, but he stepped closer anyway.  
  
They stared at each other for a handful of seconds, before Dean threw a glance at the bartender. "Can't you see that we're trying to have an awkward conversation?"  
  
The way he looked tentatively at Dean confirmed what Sam suspected, and his anger towards Dean mounted. In the end, the guy lowered his head and walked away, and Dean grinned weakly.  
  
"Hey, the sex wasn't that bad, was it?" he tried to joke, but Sam narrowed his eyes.  
  
"You don't get it, do you," he hissed, then stood up, threw some coins on the table and stormed out.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with me, Sam!" Dean shouted at him. "You're the one with the fucking problem!"

 

  
Four hours went by when Sam finally called him, and Dean was almost going out of his mind with worry by then.  
  
"Can you come pick me up? I walked for miles and I have no money for cab or bus," he said, and just like that Dean's anger returned.  
  
He snorted bitterly."So you're talking to me now you want something," he replied.  
  
"Let's just get this done, all right?" Sam added, after a long pause.  
  
"Ask me nicely and I'll think about it," Dean retorted, and he knew how childish he was sounding, but really, how could Sam think that it was even remotely okay for him to treat his older brother this way?  
  
"I ain't begging you, Dean." He sounded so unnervingly calm that Dean snapped.  
  
"You're not all that, you know! You're not top dog at your little school anymore, you should be grateful I fucked you. It was probably the only chance you'll ever have to fuck someone as hot as me." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, and he could see Sam flinching even if they were miles apart.  
  
That had to hurt. Still, he didn't apologize, too damn proud for that. Sam made a weird sound with his tongue.  
  
"Grateful? I don't want you anywhere near me, Dean," he spat out. "Gonna grab my stuff and be gone as soon as I get to the motel."  
  
Dean clenched his jaw. "Oh yeah? Fine. Be this way. Your loss, you fucker."  
  
He hung up and turned off his phone, resisting the impulse to just smash it against the wall, when he saw the bartender closing the blinds. "What are you up to now?" he asked, and the guy's eyes lightened up when he saw Dean.  
  
"I was just going home," he replied, an hopeful edge to his words.  
  
"Do you want a ride?" Dean offered, and the guy beamed.  
  
"Sure."

 

  
"It's my last day at the bar, tomorrow," the bartender started when Dean parked in front of his house. "I'm going to Africa with a humanitarian organization: I already went last year. Man, the conditions these people live in..."  
  
Dean tuned him out.  
  
He didn't even like the guy: he was there, on his knees, staring at him with those eager eyes and wanting to suck his cock and Dean was horny, nothing else. He didn't know why he was with him instead of on the road going to pick Sammy up.  
  
"...don't you think?"  
  
Dean blinked and turned to the guy. "What?"  
  
The guy arched an eyebrow. "Makes you realize how lucky you are, since-"  
  
"Oh, shut up," Dean muttered, and leaned in to open the door for him, but doing so he brushed his arm and the guy's eyes went wide with lust, as he threw himself at Dean.  
  
"Fuck me," he pleaded, "oh please, please fuck me! Wanna ride you right here, sit in your lap and take all your cock until you hit my stomach. Please, I-"  
  
Dean snatched his arm away, and the guy's face relaxed instantly, even if he still looked confused. "I don't even know what happened," he said, frowning.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes. "Forget it."  
  
The guy didn't seem incline to listen to him, though. "What's up with you, anyway? One minute we're having sex, the next you won't even talk to me..."  
  
"I said, forget it," Dean growled.  
  
The guy just shrugged, leaning in, probably to kiss him goodbye. "Don't touch me!" Dean snapped, and the guy flinched, moving aback.  
  
"You're nuts," he stated, conversationally, as he stepped out of the car. "Anyway, see you around."  
  
"Or not" Dean croaked out, as the guy nodded and walked away. Dean sighed, but waited until he was alone before he turned his phone on again.

 

  
"It used to be a good thing, you know? I mean, come on! People wanting to have sex with me...it was _neat_. Now it's shit. "  
  
Sam huffed, on the other side of the phone, but he didn't hang up on him, and it was such a familiar sound that Dean felt immediately reassured. "Yeah, sure. Look, Dean, whatever I said or did last night, that wasn't me."  
  
Dean swallowed. "I know. It's me. I don't even know if someone actually wants to sleep with me, or if it's just this bullshit."  
  
Sam snorted. "Oh come on, De, you're not serious, are you? You're hot, girls will always want to have sex with you."  
  
"You didn't," he snapped, and it took Sam a few seconds to reply.  
  
"I'm obviously not a girl," he pointed out, with a chuckle, before his tone went serious. "See, truth is-I did. Want to."  
  
Dean gasped. "You..."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sick, fucked up, whatever you want to call it, but...I did. Just-not like that."  
  
Dean was struggling to understand, he was, but it was too much to grasp. Sam seemed to get it, because he sighed.  
  
"You don't need to use your curse, or power, or whatever the fuck that is on me, man," he explained, in a low, soft voice. "I'm already there. I've always been there, actually, since I discovered what my dick was for."  
  
Dean bit his lower lip, fidgeting in his seat. “I don't know how to be with you, Sam. And I don't know how to be like this."  
  
"We'll work something out," Sam said, immediately. "It's gonna be okay, you'll see."  
  
"Of course it will" Dean retorted, even if his voice wavered a little "Bitch."  
  
Sam snickered. "Nice to see you're still the frigging jerk we all love and adore..."  
  
They both laughed softly at that, then Sam took a deep breath and Dean knew that he was not going to like what was coming next. "I'm gonna stay over here, all right?"  
  
And there it was. The same, black pit of despair that opened in Dean's guts when Sam announced he was going to college.  
  
"Why? No, Sam, please, I won't-I'll never pull a stunt like that again, just-don't leave!"  
  
Sam sighed again. "You're a mess, De."  
  
Dean cringed. "Yeah... I know."  
  
"And still, I want to be with you," Sam added. "Sounds crazy, but I do. And I'm not going to touch you until we fix this fucked up curse, okay? If we're gonna be together, there must be no one else and nothing else between us. This is it."  
  
"We could try phone sex," Dean suggested, and Sam snorted.  
  
"No, De. We just...go our separate ways for a while, get our priorities straight and our minds sorted, and maybe find a way to break you free in the process. Not gonna kill us, right?"  
  
And Dean wanted to stomp his foot, make a scene, tell Sam to fuck off because he couldn't say that stuff and then decide they couldn't be together...but he couldn't. Because of course, the little shit was right.   
Oh, man, how much he hated it when Sam was right.  
  
"Works for me," he muttered, begrudgingly, and could hear Sam's smile.  
  
"No it doesn't," Sam murmured. "But thank you for saying it. Keep in touch, okay? And try not to get killed."  
  
Dean lowered his head, hating the traitorous sting on the corners of his eyes. "Course."

 

  
  



	2. Spinning in his grin

  
Supernatural sons of bitches didn't take a holiday while he and Sam tried to make it through, so Dean kept on hunting by himself. He decided that, after screwing it all up and sending Sam running for the hills, he deserved to do all the work on his own.  
  
He had never liked working with strangers, and he was not starting now, especially with his goddamned curse still full force. However, that meant getting in way too much trouble for him to handle it alone, but that was Dean for you: too damn proud to admit he couldn't do it, and too damn stubborn to take it easy until he got the hang of it.  
  
He had always hunted with John, and then with Sam; he had been on a few hunts on his own, of course, but it was always just to kill time before his partner was back. Now he was not sure if Sam was ever going to actually come back, so he just rolled his sleeves and dove head first in the hunt, with the illusion that work would take his mind off of Sam and make it easier for him to live with what he had done.  
  
Unfortunately, the life-old Winchester rules that if you don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist and if you don't want it hard enough it'll go away, didn't seem to apply in this case.  
  
Figured.

 

  
"And then the vamps were surrounding me-I thought I was done for, this time-when..."  
  
Sam gasped. "What? How the hell did you end up in that situation, Dean? Didn't you check facts first? Why didn't you call for backup? And-"  
  
"Geez, Sammy, calm the fuck down!" Dean exclaimed. "I'm telling the story, right? That means I'm alive and well, right?"  
  
Sam paused, then sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."  
  
Dean grumbled. "Anyway, I got surrounded by a whole bunch of vampires, and I was just about to kick three kinds of shit out of them, but then this fella swoops in on his BMX, all dramatic like, and gives me a backie. He can pedal! I'll give him that."  
  
"So a random guy appears out of nowhere and rescues you, and you wait a week before you tell me about it? Who was he?"  
  
"I don't know, he was wearing a mask," Dean muttered, before narrowing his eyes. "That's not the point, Sam, the point is that the only reason I needed saving is because you're a fucking idiot! I said I'm sorry, didn't I?!"  
  
"Don't unleash your frustration and your hurt pride on me, you asshole!" Sam snapped. "It's not my fault I'm not there with you, and you know it!"  
  
"Seriously? That's all you've got to say to me?" Dean growled, and Sam groaned in frustration.  
  
"You're such a prick. This is not about you, or me, or heck, even _us_ , don't you get it? This is about someone else following you around, knowing what you do, where you go and what's gonna happen, and we need to find out who it is."  
  
Dean chuckled bitterly. He didn't give a damn about the guy, he gave him a hand and that was all. Not likely he was ever going to meet him again.  
  
Besides, the way the guy pedaled and the intensity in his eyes...he kinda reminded Dean of his brother, and even if he knew, rationally, that it couldn't have been Sam, he liked to toy with the hope that the guy who rescued him was in fact his Sammy, not ready to come back but not willing to be too far from him either.  
  
Hey, a man can dream.

 

  
Dean panted. "Sorry, man, I'm here. Had to lose some creep."  
  
Sam's annoyed tone was instantly replaced by a worried one. "Who was it?"  
  
"I don't know. He was following me. I think he might have been the one who sent me the note telling me where the grave was."  
  
Sam blinked. "Er...did I miss something?"  
  
Dean cringed. He so didn't mean to tell Sam about that. "Yeah, the-the masked guy? He's still around," he explained, knowing Sam was going to rip him a new one for this. "I couldn't make heads or tails of what I had been discovering, until he made me find a note explaining how to get to the cemetery."  
  
There was a minute of heavy silence before Sam's voice came back on the line. "When were you gonna tell me?" he hissed.  
  
Dean fidgeted. "I didn't think it was relevant."  
  
Sam's sharp intake of breath made very clear for him that he didn't agree. " How is that not relevant?" Sam exclaimed, in a high-pitched voice that made Dean flinch.  
  
"All right, I'm sorry, I forgot!" he said, trying to placate him, but Sam wasn't going to have any of it.  
  
"Someday you'll have to learn that your goddamned pride is not everything, Dean," he grumbled. "We need to find him, and we need to find him _now_."  
  
"Look, if he wants to fuck around, trying to be a superhero, let him" Dean replied, dismissively. "Who has time for that shit? We are busy enough with finding a way to free me and to deal with our situation, remember?"  
  
Sam sighed. "So you suggest we simply ignore him, is that it?"  
  
"Right," Dean agreed, shrugging. "He's just a chancer, chancing it. What does he actually know?"  
  
"As far as I can see, and based on what you told me, he seems to know everything," Sam retorted. "Everything you do, everything you need. Does that look even remotely normal to you?" No matter how much he didn't want to fuel Sam's rage, Dean had to admit that he was right.  
  
But then again, what was normal in their lives?

 

  
"The guy in the mask," Dean said, without even waiting for Sam to greet him. "I followed him. I know where he lives. What do you want me to do about it?"  
  
Sam fidgeted. "I don't want _you_ to do anything" he replied. "We have to think this through, you know? Decide how to approach, what to say..."  
  
"I think I should go round there and talk to him" Dean interrupted him, and Sam gasped.  
  
"And I think you're a fucking idiot if you go," he retorted. "Don't even think about it, you don't know what you're gonna find there, do you? What if is a trap?"   
  
Dean reassured him, then, but in his mind he was already planning how and when he was going to break into the dude's house; he didn't like being followed around, made him feel uncomfortable.  
  
And Dean Winchester does _not_ feel uncomfortable.  
  
 _You are going down_ , he thought, as Sam went on and on about the bar he was working at.

 

  
That was it. Dean picked the lock and entered, as subtly as he could, making sure no one heard or saw him.  
  
He moved through the living room (pretty tidy, surprisingly) and then deviated through a door on his right. It only took a glance around to realize that it was a girl's bedroom.  
 _So now we're saying he's a cross-dresser?_ he thought, frowning, before dismissing the idea.  
  
Something was wrong, though.  
  
He needed to send a message, let the guy know he couldn't fuck with the Winchesters, but he had no idea how to do that. If he had been in one of The Godfather movies, he would have had a horse's head in handy to put in the bed, but of course, real life never plays out like in the movies, so he was left glancing unsatisfied at the bedroom.  
  
There was always another option: that wasn't his apartment.  
  
So why did he lead him there? Maybe he knew Dean was following him. As he was scratching the back of his head, confused, the door opened and a tiny, dark-haired girl entered, carrying grocery bags.  
  
She didn't scream or faint; instead, she arched an eyebrow and took a small, automatic gun from her purse, pointing it straight at him. "Who are you?" she inquired, firmly. "What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?"

 

  
"Have you seen any more of that guy in the mask?" Sam asked, and Dean groaned. He really didn't want to talk about that.  
  
"Not since last week," he tried, hoping that would get Sam off of his back. Technically, it wasn't even a lie.  
  
Sam hummed, before saying, "You went to his place, didn't you?"  
  
Dean hated how perceptive his baby brother was. "Yeah, I did," he admitted, no reason to hide it anymore.  
  
"You idiot!" Sam exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you-"  
"Calm down, princess, don't get your panties in a twist." Dean interrupted him, "It wasn't his place, it was a chick's. A square balled chick, actually, she kicked me out without even flinching."  
  
Sam pondered for a moment. "Why do you think he lead us to a chick's flat?"  
  
Dean snorted. As if he hadn't been asking himself the same question since it happened.  
"Maybe he wanted us to know that he knew that we were on to him," he reasoned, and Sam gasped.   
  
"Or there could be another totally different explanation," Dean added, rushingly. "You're the one who's supposed to know about this stuff, anyway."  
  
"Wow, you really gave this a lot of thought, didn't you?" Sam asked, sounding impressed. "Why are you so interested in him all of a sudden?"  
  
Dean made a dismissive sound. "Because I just am, all right?"  
  
Sam snickered."What?" Dean spatted, not liking Sam attitude at all.  
  
"Oh, nothing" Sam replied, mockingly.  
  
"I mean, I've seen and heard some weird shit over the last few weeks, even weirder than usual, but this...this goes against the very laws of nature. Dean Winchester's feathers all ruffled on some masked superhero? That is so very wrong," he concluded, chuckling.  
  
"Oh, fuck you, college boy," Dean muttered, but with no real heat behind his words. It had been so long since he heard his brother laugh that it was totally worth a little humiliation.

 

  
It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn: teenager got harassed and bullied, killed himself, his spirit stayed to hunt the school and those who made his life miserable.  
  
He could deal with something like that in his sleep.  
  
Only problem was that without Sam to do research for him, he missed the memo about the ghost being, in fact, two ghosts. Twins.  
  
While they were alternatively slamming him against the walls and kicking his guts out, Dean thought that it was almost poetic. Killed by brotherly love. Who would have thought.  
  
One of the ghosts grabbed the lapel of his jacket and threw him: the impact was so violent that he lost consciousness, not before he saw the already familiar masked shadow jumping from the roof of a building and landing right in front of him as he turned to face the ghosts.  
 _I'm sorry, Sammy_ was his last thought before going limp against the wall.

 

  
When he came to, he was laying on a gigantic bed, and his head hurt like someone was trying to drill a hole in it. He groaned and sat up, taking in his surroundings. Looked like an underground garage, with a wall covered in pictures and big flashing timers tuned on different hours.  
  
The whole ceiling was lighted, and smack in the middle of the room there was what looked like some sort of lift. Dean touched his forehead, expecting to find a bleeding gash, but found out the wound had already been disinfected and stitched. The bump might had been pretty hard if he had slept through the process.  
  
He stepped towards the wall, and studied the pictures. Some of them were landscapes or places that made no sense whatsoever to him, but then he noticed the Impala, Bobby's house, and-  
  
"What the fuck," he muttered, recognizing himself. And Sam. The board was covered in Polaroids of him and Sam.

 

  
He looked for his knife, or his gun, and found them both secured at his sides. His savior didn't take his weapons away, which made him feel marginally better about the whole ordeal, and so did recognizing the dark suit and mask of his mysterious knight in shining armor of the last few weeks on a chair next to the lift.  
  
A sound of running water captured his attention: there was a huge, crystal shower on the other end of the room, and before he could think about it Dean slowly walked up to it. He stood frozen on the spot when faced with the back of one of the most stunningly beautiful men he had ever seen: he was tall, built, with floppy brown hair and rippling muscles.  
  
His toned, perky ass was a thing of beauty, and Dean was this close to drooling at the miles long legs he didn't have any trouble to imagine wrapped around his torso as he pounded into him. The guy heard him approaching and turned the water off, turning slowly: Dean wasn't as surprised as he should have been when it was Sam's hazel eyes looking back at him.  
  
No one else would have cared about him enough to save him.  
  
For a moment he patted himself on the back for guessing it right, but then he looked closer, and no matter how much Sam there was in those eyes, in the little mole on his cheek or in his soft-looking lips, that was _not_ Sam. His suspicions were confirmed when the guy offered him a tight smile and grabbed a towel, completely shameless in his perfect nudity.  
  
"How's your head?" he asked, brushing Dean's forehead, and even his voice was different. Deeper, richer.  
  
"What the fuck is going on, here?" Dean growled, menacingly, as he stepped back. "You're not Sam."  
  
The guy's smile grew a little wider. "Yeah, I am."  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Oh, really? Since when did you run around, jumping off buildings?"  
  
The guy shrugged. "Ever since I traveled back from the future."  
  
Dean snorted. "And you expect me to believe that? Seriously?"  
  
The guy grabbed a silver blade and cut his forearm, then put some salt in a jug of water where a rosary was floating and drank it. "Yes," he answered once he was done.  
  
Dean blinked. It didn't make any sense. "How would this even _work_?" Dean inquired. "There's two of you walking around, wouldn't it disrupt the-whatever?"  
  
"Space continuum," _Sam_ finished for him. "And no, it won't. There's the Sam you know and there's the future Sam. Me. As long as we don't meet and our time lines don't overlap, everything will be just fine."  
  
He sounded so sure, so assertive, so adult ( _was he the actual older brother now, if he came from the future?_ ) that Dean had to repress a shiver. "You're so different," he muttered.  
  
 _Sam_ chuckled softly. "A lot happens, between now and then."  
  
Dean shook his head, and the sudden pain reminded him of something. "You touched me," he pointed out. "You touched me, and you didn't-why doesn't the curse work on you?"  
  
 _Sam_ 's gaze went soft, and he stepped closer. This time, Dean didn't move away. "Things are different in the future," he explained.  
  
Before he could reach Dean, though, Dean pointed at the wall. "What's with all the photographs, the clocks and all that stuff? You a stalker or what?"  
  
 _Sam_ followed Dean's gaze. "There are things that need to happen at certain times: I'm here to make sure they do." His fingertips grazed Dean's shoulder, and Dean felt like his insides were melting: it had been so long since anyone touched him, and even if he had never been a big fan of physical contact, he was definitely starting to miss it.  
  
He was going to deny it until the day he died, obviously.  
  
"Does it hurt?" _Sam_ asked, his thumb brushing the gash, and Dean just shrugged, fighting with the need of pulling the guy close and just _feel_. "I gotta go" he said instead, hoarsely, pulling away and grabbing his jacket from the floor.  
  
 _Sam_ 's voice stopped him right before he entered the lift. "No matter what happens, you can never tell Sam I'm him."  
  
Dean turned his head, surprised. "I know you talked to Sam about me, but you can't tell anyone that I'm here. It could change _everything_."  
  
Dean nodded, dismissively, but the weight of _Sam_ 's stare made him feel uneasy. "Promise me, Dean," _Sam_ said.  
"Yeah, okay," Dean agreed, before he all but fled the place.  
  
Only once he was far enough to breathe normally again he noticed his amulet was gone, and cursed the fucking ghost twins for breaking that last connection between him and his brother.  
Then he stopped to think, and realized that he could make the connection again, if he had enough guts.  
  
And guts is something Dean Winchester has in abundance.

 

  
"Dean?" Sam's sleepy voice made a pang of _want_ run through him, but Dean stomped on it, because that was not what his phone call was about.  
  
"I'm okay," he said, gruffly. "Everything's fine, but you have to listen to me."  
  
"Okay," Sam answered, softly, and Dean swallowed, hard, before he started talking.  
  
"Look, Sammy, society's got us thinking there's a certain way we're supposed to be. Well, it's not! We're young. We're supposed to drink too much. We're supposed to have bad attitudes and fuck each other's brains out, especially when it's the only fucking thing that might make this dump of life worth living. We are designed to screw up. That's it. Yeah, so a few of us will overdose or go crazy. But Charles Darwin said you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. And that's what it's all about - breaking eggs! And by eggs, I do mean, getting wasted on a cocktail of Class As."  
  
Sam gasped. "Dean, what..."  
  
"No, Sam, let me finish. If you could just see yourself! It breaks my heart to know that maybe I lost you, you know. We had it all. We fucked up bigger and better than any generation that came before us. We were so beautiful! We're screw-ups. I'm a screw-up and I plan to be a screw-up until my late 30s, maybe even my early 40s. And I will fuck my own mother before I let anyone else take that away from me!"  
  
Sam stayed silent, but Dean could hear him breathing on the other side of the phone, and that gave him the strength to finish. "Sam, please, let's just...start again, okay? We pretend nothing happened and take it slow. Be brothers again, before anything else. I will make it up to you, I promise."  
  
Dean knew he was begging him, but he really couldn't do it any differently and for once he didn't give a shit about his pride. After seeing, after _touching_ future Sam, he just needed to have _his_ Sam close.  
  
And yeah, he couldn't touch him, but it beat being a miserable, lonely prick any day. From the way Sam's voice was shaking when he agreed, he figured he was not the only one.

 

  
Sam was sitting on a bench, and looked incredibly sad and alone. Dean's chest clenched, and he kicked himself once again for causing so much distress to his younger brother.  
  
 _I'm such a dick_ he thought. _I don't even know why he's still around._  
  
"Your sandwich looks dull," he said, trying to ease the tension, and Sam's gaze snapped up as he offered Dean a tentative smile.  
  
"It needs a little mayo," he agreed "I had none."  
  
"I don't have any" Dean replied "but I got you a drink."  
  
Sam's face lit up, as if Dean just gave him the world instead of a can of soda, and Dean chuckled nervously. "It's just a drink," he pointed out, and Sam nodded.  
  
"Thank you, De." His voice was warm and familiar, so different from the other Sam, and Dean felt torn for a moment.  
  
"Do you ever think about the future?" he asked. "About what's going to happen to us, to our lives?"  
  
  
"All the time," Sam answered. "And we need to be ready."   
  
Dean blinked. "What for?"  
Sam looked at his hands. "One day someone's going to find out about us. How far are we ready to go for each other, how much we mean to each other. They will try to use it against us, turn us into each other's weak spot." He bit his lower lip. "Maybe everything will change, then."  
  
Dean leaned in, wanting to grab Sam's arm but stopping right before he did. "I'll look out for you," he tried to reassure Sam. "That's my job, remember? As long as I'm around, nothing's bad is gonna happen to you."  
  
"I've never thanked you," Sam said, suddenly "for taking care of me all these years. For taking me back every time I fucked up, and for always being there for me."  
  
Dean smiled. "Well, I've got you to thank for the exact same things, right? I'd say we're even."  
  
Sam frowned. "Why are you being so...nice to me, Dean?" he inquired. "You didn't do anything stupid, did you?"  
  
Dean looked taken aback. "Hey, what are you talking about? I'm always nice!"  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow, and Dean groaned. "Look, if I've ever been an ass to you I'm sorry, okay?" he muttered.  
  
Sam snorted. “Nah, I've never thought you were an ass. You are a jerk, though" he clarified. And with that, it was settled.

 

  
Sam never told Dean, but sometimes he wondered how difficult it was for him to make friends, to have relationships and to really know what those around him really wanted or expected from him.  
  
He wondered how many times people didn't see past his looks, and didn't expect for him to be anything but a hot body to fuck or get fucked by. Dean was too beautiful for anyone to overlook that; it was probably easier for them to just focus on that and pretend there wasn't anything else, instead.

 

  
Sam had just gone out to get some dinner when _Sam_ dropped by.  
  
Dean found him hidden between their beds, laying in his clean underwear, when he got out of the bathroom. "Were you sniffing my boxers?" he asked, frowning, and _Sam_ rolled his eyes.  
  
"You think I risked my life traveling through the dimensions of time so I could _sniff_ your boxers?" he retorted.  
  
Dean smirked. "I don't know. Did you?"  
  
 _Sam_ snorted. "No, man. Your boxers don't smell _that_ good."  
  
Dean huffed. "Whatever gets you through the night" he muttered.  
  
Sam stood up and stepped closer. "I've got something that belongs to you, De" he said, and dropped the amulet in Dean's open palm.  
  
"I thought I'd lost it," Dean said, pleased and grateful, and Sam smiled at him.  
  
"You're so easy to make happy," he stated, and it sounded so familiar and tender that Dean almost kissed him. He didn't, though.  
  
"Sam- _you_ are back with me," he announced instead.  
  
 _Sam_ nodded. "I know. Everything that happens to Sam has already happened to me."  
  
Dean fidgeted. "That's not what I meant," he went on. "We talked, you know, decided to give it a shot and it made me feel... I don't know, it was different than ever before," he tried to explain.  
  
 _Sam_ was nodding, so maybe he was making sense, after all.  
  
"Ever since I got hit by this curse, well. Let's just say I haven't felt all that good about myself, lately."  
  
"You've never felt good about yourself, De," _Sam_ said, softly. "And you always should have. Even now-the curse is not down to you. You didn't ask for this, you didn't cause this. It's not your fault."  
  
His hand, that was squeezing Dean's shoulder reassuringly, was a warm and steadying presence that made Dean feel safe and in danger at the same time.  
  
"What do you want from me? Why are you here in this time?" he asked, sounding a little more forceful than he intended, but _Sam_ didn't seem to notice.  
  
He lowered his eyes, as if he was almost ashamed. "I came back for you," he murmured.  
Dean forced his chin up to meet his eyes.  
  
"Are we together? In the future?"  
  
 _Sam_ offered him a small smile. "That's why I'm here," he answered, in a whisper.   
Dean felt his heart flutter in his chest.  
  
"You serious?" he insisted.  
  
"With the curse, me being an ass and everything, we..."  
  
"Sam loves you" _Sam_ stated, matter-of-factly. " _I_ love you because _and_ despite everything. You're it for me, Dean, forever."  
  
"How is that ever gonna happen?" Dean inquired, his expression probably telling _Sam_ how much he didn't believe in monogamy and happy endings.  
  
 _Sam_ was silent for a long instant, his gaze shifting from side to side, then his eyes found Dean's. "You fall in love with me," he said.  
  
Dean gasped, and took an uncertain step back. "You-you can't say stuff like that!" he exclaimed. "We are brothers, you...Sam is my baby brother!"  
  
 _Sam_ didn't reply, he just stared at him with an expression of fond patience, and it made Dean go crazy.  
  
"You act like you're all powerful, like you know what's gonna happen-well, I don't! I don't know what I'm feeling right now, and I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, and it's _freaking me out_ , dammit!" He knew he sounded almost hysterical, but right then he didn't give a shit.  
  
 _Sam_ simply curled his fingers around his bicep, and pulled him closer, rubbing circles in Dean's skin. "So it's okay for you to fuck him, but it's not okay for you to be in love with him?" he asked, quietly.  
  
Dean cringed.  
  
"That's not what I meant and you know it," he growled, and _Sam_ stepped closer.  
  
"Then what was it?"  
  
"You need to go," Dean said, rushingly, pushing _Sam_ away weakly. "Sam will be back soon."  
  
 _Sam_ kept touching him, and Dean felt his body tingle. It was not right, and he couldn't deal with it.  
  
"Will you just fuck off!" he snapped, moving away, and _Sam_ chuckled softly.  
  
"See you soon," he said, jumping fluidly out of the window, right as the door opened and Sam stepped inside with the groceries.  
  
"You just got out of the shower?" he whined. "I hope you left me some hot water, you selfish bastard."  
  
When Dean didn't reply, Sam arched an eyebrow. "What's up with you? You've been in some kind of weird mood lately."  
  
Dean shrugged. "No, I haven't. It's just this damn curse messing with my head. I'm wondering if this is it, you know. Is this the best I get?"  
  
Sam frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Dean sighed. "Not being allowed to touch people...never get touched..."  
  
"Hey, it's not my fault I can't touch you" Sam stated, weirded out by the conversation.  
  
"So it's my fault, then?" Dean retorted, narrowing his eyes, and Sam groaned.  
  
"Come on, De, you know I didn't mean that! I know you haven't asked for-"  
  
"You know what?" Dean interrupted him, in a snappy tone. "Maybe I deserve all this, but I need you to make me feel like I don't!"  
  
Sam opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but in the end he just huffed and stomped to the bathroom. Dean turned his back and got the laundry from the floor, stupidly looking for a different smell that proved that he didn't dream it all, even if the amulet he was holding in his hand was already proof enough.  
  
 _Fall in love with him_ , he thought, bitterly. _Yeah, never gonna happen, mister Sasquatch from the future._

 


	3. For the ones that feel it the most

  
In the end, he waited for Sam to fall asleep before he took off. He had to see _Sam_ , he had too many questions, too many things he didn't understand.  
  
And he needed to be touched.  
  
When he opened the door, he found _Sam_ bare chested, sweaty and panting, obviously just done with his daily workout.  
  
"Hi," he greeted Dean, softly. "Are you coming in?"  
  
Dean hesitated. "I don't even know if what you're telling me is true," he pointed out. "Maybe you are some sort of creature, even if you don't react to holy water, salt and silver."  
  
He stepped forward. "You touch me and then you say all these things...say I fall in love with you, even when my Sam is an insufferable prick, and..." He swallowed, looking away.  
"How am I supposed to know it happens, uh? You can't play these fucking mind games with me, man."  
  
Sam moved closer, and didn't stop until their chests were brushing against each other. He put his hands on Dean's hips and pulled him in, nuzzling his neck and making Dean's heart beat so fast it rumbled in his ears.  
  
"Gross," Dean complained weakly, but didn't make a move to break free until _Sam_ stepped back.  
  
"I have to go," he said, and Dean growled. "You touch me like that and then you tell me you have to go?" he complained, and _Sam_ shook his head.  
  
"Just need to get changed and maybe take a shower, Dean. Wait there."  
  
 _What am I doing?_ Dean asked himself, but his thoughts were interrupted by _Sam_ 's voice calling out for him.  
  
"It's gonna be all right," he said. "And I should know. I'm from the future, after all."

 

  
When _Sam_ got back, Dean was on his laptop, looking at a video of the two of them at the Grand Canyon. "You shouldn't be watching that," _Sam_ scolded him lightly.  
  
"Are we retiring?" Dean inquired.  
  
 _Sam_ looked at him. "Do you wanna retire, De?"  
  
Dean shrugged. "It's got to be better than risking our lives over and over without having shit to show for it," he replied, bitterly.  
  
 _Especially once we have something to protect_ he thought.  
  
 _Sam_ sighed. "Sometimes I think that those years I spent risking my life over and over with you were the best time of my life," he murmured, and Dean finally realized that something was definitely not right.  
  
"Does something happen to us?" he inquired, his gaze fixed on _Sam_.  
  
 _Sam_ 's own gaze shifted. Dean swallowed. "I'm gonna die, right?"  
  
Sam's eyes snapped back on him. "I'm not going to let that happen," he hissed, his jaw clenched. "That's why I'm here."  
  
Dean put a hand on _Sam_ 's and squeezed, reassuringly. "I'm here too," he said, huskily.  
"What happens now?"  
  
 _Sam_ licked his lower lip, his eyes sparkling. "What do you want to happen?"  
  
Dean didn't have to answer that question with words.

 

  
The kiss felt completely different from those he had shared with _his_ Sam while he was under the curse. No urgency, no hunger: it was like they were kissing to share, to pour their all into each other, and there was no rushing that.  
  
 _Sam_ 's hands were shaking when they cupped Dean's face, and he sighed in the kiss.  
Dean's stomach clenched at the implications of this being the first kiss _Sam_ exchanged with him since Dean, well, died.  
  
 _Sam_ pulled at Dean's over shirt, taking it off, without breaking the contact, as if he couldn't get enough of Dean's skin. It was a heady feeling, a feeling he had almost forgotten, with the curse and everything.  
  
Dean's hands were exploring too: Sam's body was so strong and solid under his fingertips, his muscles fluttering and his skin so warm...Sam had always been a human furnace, and this was the final proof.  
  
Dean directed _Sam_ back towards the bed, where he didn't waste time to straddle his hips, one hand tormenting a nipple and the other curled around the nape of _Sam_ 's neck. He pulled away the wife beater he was wearing underneath, as _Sam_ licked and nipped at his chest, his eyes closed, savoring the moment.  
  
Dean laid his body over _Sam_ 's, feeling his brother's erection hot and hard under the cotton, and shivering when Sam caressed his lower back and his ass. He couldn't stop his hips from thrusting against _Sam_ 's, and groaned loudly at the friction.  
  
 _Sam_ took advantage of Dean's distraction and rolled them over, immediately starting his descend towards Dean's groin. He forced Dean's knees up and kissed reverently from the ankle to the inner thigh, making Dean go crazy with the barely there wetness of _Sam_ 's tongue tracing complicated patterns and stopping every here and there to bite and taste.  
  
His breath was coming out in short, quick pants, but he didn't say a single word. The moment was so perfect, he felt like words might break whatever spell they were caught in.  
  
Then suddenly _Sam_ 's mouth was there, blowing hotly on the tip of Dean's dick, that twitched and leaked some more, before finally taking pity on him and swallowing his length.  
Dean let out a sound he would have denied forever if anyone had asked, as his eyes rolled in the back of his head.  
  
 _Sam_ sucked him down like a pro, again and again, until Dean gave up all pretenses of control and just started thrusting his cock down _Sam_ 's throat.  
  
He barely registered the finger _Sam_ pushed in his mouth alongside Dean's dick, and the faint sting when Sam breached him with it.  
  
One of _Sam_ 's palms was spread on Dean's stomach, in an attempt to keep him grounded, but when the wandering finger hit a spot inside his body that made Dean see stars, there was no way _Sam_ was going to be able to control him.  
  
All Dean could do was be torn between pushing back onto _Sam_ 's fingers (two? Three? Dean didn't know, he just knew they felt so fucking good he was going to pass out) and up into the warm wetness of _Sam_ 's mouth, so he just thrashed on the bed making small, needy sounds.  
  
He didn't even know how, but he managed to get _Sam_ away before he made him shoot, because then it would have been over and Dean didn't want it to end.  
  
When _Sam_ 's dick slid inside Dean's body, it was like shock therapy to his guts. He was not a bottom, he had never been and was never going to be, but this _Sam_ was strong, sure of himself, assertive and firm, and he made Dean feel beautiful, desirable, worshiped.  
  
His body was all Dean had to give in exchange. He crossed his ankles on _Sam_ 's back and thrust up, as _Sam_ rubbed against him, bringing his engorged, overstimulated dick impossibly closer to coming.  
  
 _Sam_ 's body was draped all over Dean's, and Dean was grabbing at _Sam_ 's shoulder so hard he was probably bruising him, but in _Sam_ 's glassy eyes there was only love and adoration, as he pushed, pulled and curled himself around Dean like he wanted to physically shield him from everything and everyone.  
  
Dean had never given up control, but here, in _Sam_ 's arms, it felt okay. He felt safe.  
  
And that simple thought was enough to push him over the edge, as he came with a scream.  
He vaguely registered _Sam_ pulling out and kissing the knob of his spine, before they both fell asleep, entangled, sticky and disgustingly happy.

 

  
"Don't take this the wrong way, but...you're way better than I thought you'd be," Dean said, jokingly, and _Sam_ elbowed him.  
  
"I had a good teacher," he replied. "You."  
  
Dean hummed."I never taught you how to do that," he protested, and _Sam_ grinned.  
  
"Not yet, but you will. Just one more thing you'll have to show your little brother the ropes for."  
  
Dean groaned, hiding his face under his arm. "Ugh, now that is so wrong!" he whined, but _Sam_ poked him.  
  
"You get off on that, don't even pretend you don't," he whispered in his ear, and Dean shivered. "It's okay, I do too."  
  
He looked at their come-covered bodies and chuckled. "Obviously."  
  
It was so unsettling for Dean when _Sam_ knew everything there was to know about him, and still somehow it allowed him to take a breather from being the one who fit the role.  
  
"I didn't realize how much I missed it," Dean admitted, "being able to touch someone." He had missed it even more than being touched, probably. He snorted. "I can't believe I've just had sex with you...you're Sammy, my prudish baby brother" he muttered, and _Sam_ chuckled.  
  
"We had sex already," he pointed out, but Dean frowned. "Not like this."  
  
 _Sam_ pretended to think. "Oh, you mean _getting fucked_ by me..."  
  
Dean slapped his shoulder. "Don't say it like that, bitch," he said, petulantly.  
  
"Why don't you give it back to me, if it stings so bad?" Sam suggested, wriggling his eyebrows.  
  
"Sam won't wake up before 7, we still have three hours."  
  
Dean smirked, crawling on _Sam_ 's naked body. "Barely enough time for what I have in mind" he replied, cupping _Sam_ 's ass in his palms, and _Sam_ let out an honest to God giggle Dean was never going to let him live down.

 

  
When Dean woke up, he was alone in the bed. His body ached in all the right places, and he felt more rested than he had felt in months.  
  
 _Sam_ was on the other side of the room, lifting weights with a concentrated expression on his face. He was so beautiful Dean got lost in contemplation for a second. Then he snapped out of it and got dressed; he had to be back to the motel in half an hour if he didn't want Sam to notice he didn't spend the night there.  
  
"Hi," _Sam_ greeted him, with a soft smile.  
  
"Gotta bolt and go back to the motel-but of course you know that, 'cause I'm going to see you there," Dean said.  
  
 _Sam_ nodded.  
  
Dean grabbed his boots and then fidgeted.  
  
"So...are we, like. Seeing each other now? We a couple or something? Gotta warn you, I suck at this shit," he blurted out.  
  
"Yeah, you do" _Sam_ agreed, but didn't add anything else.  
  
"I can't lie to Sam, I can't do that to him," Dean went on, "not after all the crap I gave him for lying to me."  
  
 _Sam_ sighed. "You have to. At least for now. The present me isn't ready for what has to happen, yet," he explained. "You have to give him- _me_ , time."  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Will you stop being so fucking mysterious?"  
  
"It goes with the territory..."   
  
"Well, it's annoying, and you're starting to irk me" Dean insisted, in a warning tone.  
  
 _Sam_ stepped closer and brushed Dean's lips with his. "Just trust me" he murmured.  
"You gotta let it play out."  
  
Dean glared at him. "For now."

 

  
"What about that guy in the mask?" Sam asked as they ate breakfast at a rundown diner.  
  
"Haven't seen him in a while," Dean replied, maybe a tad too fast, trying to sound nonchalant while sitting still, which was proving to be an achievement by itself.  
  
"From what you've told me, he seems to know a lot," Sam pointed out. "Maybe we should find out who he is, if he's friend or enemy."  
  
Dean's gaze shifted. "I don't think he's evil," he said. "He had plenty of chances to kill me, you or whoever he wanted to. Can't we just let him do his thing?"  
  
Sam blinked. "But Dean, you said..."  
  
"Forget what I said!" Dean snapped. "I mean, seriously, who cares? He saved my ass over and over, let's leave it at that."  
  
Sam didn't look convinced, but he let it slide, and Dean was happy with that.

 

  
No matter how complicated it was, Dean really did his best to make it work; of course, the fact that _Sam_ always knew where the other Sam was, helped a great deal. Dean hated lying to his brother, and hated even more the confusion in his head and in his heart.  
  
He knew now that he was going to fall in love with Sam, as in, the one, forever, and the thought scared him shitless, because he had always loved Sam, hell, his little brother was the most important thing in Dean's life, but being _in_ love? That was a whole new level of stupid, even for him.  
  
He groaned, as he turned in the bed and, once more, _Sam_ was gone; he only had to lift his head to see him, standing with his arms crossed on his naked chest, as he stared at the numbers on his monitors. "What you doing?" he grumbled, as he stood up and approached him.  
  
 _Sam_ shrugged. "Nothing, just checking on a few things." His smile was tight and didn't reach his eyes, though, so Dean could easily tell he was not being honest, but he was too tired and sleepy to have a discussion right then and there about it.  
  
Besides, he had figured out that whatever _Sam_ decided not to tell him was for his own protection, and Sam's. And Dean was so not going to interfere with that. "Well, if you're done being all superheroey with your little clocks, maybe you can come back to bed. We don't have long, and I'm sort of beat."  
  
 _Sam_ snorted, his expression relaxing. "You're getting too old for this," he mocked him, and Dean glared.  
  
"Now don't be a dick," he protested, grabbing _Sam_ 's arm and pulling him in for a long, heated kiss.  
  
 _Sam_ smiled against his lips, and grabbed Dean's hips to press their groins together. "Fuck" he groaned, when Dean's erection rubbed against his own.  
  
Dean smirked. "So much for being old," he said, huskily as he cupped Sam's ass and brushed his still slick hole with his fingertips.  
  
"Let's see how your stamina is before we rush to conclusions," _Sam_ purred with intent, and Dean just pushed him down on the bed, dead set on making him sorry.

 

  
"There has been a weird electrical storm in Queen Creek, Arizona," Sam said, as he showed Dean a couple of newspapers.  
  
Dean kept munching on his bacon. "And how's that our kind of gig?" he inquired.  
  
"I've been looking and there's something weird about it," Sam explained. "It's close by, so I thought we might check it out, since we seem to be staying in the area for a while."  
  
Dean looked at him. He took for granted that he was going to stay as long as _Sam_ would, but never thought that it might seem weird to Sam. In fact, he didn't think about Sam at all.  
  
He cringed inwardly. "Yeah, I-nothing major is happening anywhere, and this is the first actual clue we get wind of in weeks, so I thought it would be good for us to...lay low, for now," he blurted out.  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow, but didn't reply. "So we going to Queen Creek?"  
  
Dean shrugged. "Guess so."  
  
He tried to call _Sam_ , but the phone was disconnected,. e did get a text, right before they left town; _let it play out_ , it said.  
  
Oh, well.

 

  
They were just walking around, asking a few questions, when a guy in a tracking suit came running from the main street. He looked terrified.  
  
 _What's with this guy?_ Dean thought, as the guy approached. As soon as he was close enough, he flailed his arms in the air.  
  
"He's fucking crazy!" he shouted. "He's gonna kill us all!"  
  
Sam frowned, but before he could ask any further a racing car drove by, tires screeching on the pavement as it stopped right in front of them. "Do you think he was talking about this fella?" Dean muttered, and Sam shrugged.  
  
The driver got off his car; he was wearing dark blue jeans and a tacky sweatshirt. His eyes were wide and his gaze shifted nervously from Sam to Dean.  
  
"Where's Conti?" he asked, in a low, growly voice.  
  
"No idea, but I'm a Cont- _e_ " Dean answered, jokingly, pointing at himself. Sam glared at him.  
  
The guy blinked, then slowly turned towards Dean. "Did you think I was going to let it go?" he hissed, taking out his gun and cocking it, pointing at him. "I want my money, you spineless dick."  
  
Sam took a step back, as Dean moved forward to protect him. "Calm down, man, we haven't got your money," Sam said, lifting his hands.  
  
The guy narrowed his eyes, still focused on Dean. "I was waiting for you, when the cops picked me up."  
  
"Okay, this isn't funny, dude," Dean said, ready to take his own gun out. "You're acting like a nut job."  
  
"I want my money!" the guy roared, and Dean cringed, his eyes going wide when he realized he didn't have his Glock. _Fuck, I left it at **Sam** 's place_ he groaned inwardly.  
A quick look Sam's way told him his brother was unarmed too.  
  
 _Just great._  
  
A police officer tentatively approached them. Probably one of those experts in negotiations. "It's okay," he started, talking slowly, "we're not gonna hurt you. We just-"  
  
He was cut off by a bullet straight to the head. "Useless" the guy muttered, kicking the cop's lifeless body on the sidewalk.  
  
"Run" Dean said and they just turned and fled, as the guy shot randomly after them.  
  
"How the fuck could you leave your gun behind?!" Dean shouted at Sam, as they ran.  
  
"Well, I could ask you the same thing, you genius!" Sam shouted back.

 

  
They were flushed against the wall, trying to recover their breath. "He just _shot_ him," Sam said, his jaw clenched. "And did you see his eyes? Man, that's not normal."  
  
Dean gaped at him. "You think?!"   
  
Sam shook his head. "No, I-not even for an insane person, that was not even crazy behavior. Something's definitely wrong with him."  
  
Dean moved in to pat his shoulder, and Sam flinched away. Dean clenched his fists.  
"Well, better that cop than one of us, anyway," he stated, in a blank tone.  
  
Sam stared at him for a long instant. "There's something wrong with you, too."

 

  
That night, while _Sam_ was showering, Dean studied the pictures on the wall once again and, sure enough, the cop was there.  
  
"You knew?" Dean asked, shocked, and _Sam_ nodded. "You knew it was going to happen and you didn't stop it?" Dean snapped. "How could you?"  
  
 _Sam_ sighed. "I can't save everyone, Dean" he said. "Some things have to happen for the future to unfold."  
  
"That's _bullshit_ , Sam!"  
  
 _Sam_ grabbed Dean's arm, and despite the rage Dean relaxed at the touch. The way Sam refused the contact still stung, even if he rationally knew that it was the right thing to do.  
"His heart is going to save a 14 years old kid," _Sam_ explained, calmly. "If I'd have stopped that guy from shooting the cop, he would have died instead."  
  
Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, unable to reply, but in the end he could just lower his head. Knowing what's going to happen sucked big time, in his opinion.

 


	4. We drink the fatal drop

  
"We should do something," Sam said, "about the guy who shot that cop."  
  
Dean frowned. "You're talking about stepping up to the plate and taking him down?" he inquired, and Sam looked horrified.  
  
"I really don't see that happening. He's just a crazy dude, nothing to do with the supernatural world."   
  
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "How can you be sure?" he protested.  
  
"Oh, come on! The guy was clearly suffering from a mental illness or something," Dean retorted, but Sam glared at him.  
  
"How many times in our lives did we face normal hospital cases, Dean?” Dean made a face.  
"All we know is that there's a man, driving around Queen Creek, Arizona, who goes around killing people for no apparent reason," Sam continued.  
  
"If we look at his pattern, and if we consider what he said to us, it's almost like he thinks they all have a reason to die. Like he's following a script." He turned and looked pointedly at Dean. "Freaky enough for you?"  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow. "Since when do you want to get involved in anything like this? Killing someone who might be a civilian?"  
  
"Maybe since I got someone's brains blown out all over my face," Sam muttered, and yeah, Dean could see how that might have changed things. Sounded ridiculous, probably, but there was a huge, abysmal difference between supernatural gunk and human gunk. At least in _his_ book.  
  
He sighed. "Sammy, if we go up against him without the intention of just kill him, one of us is most likely going to get his own brains blown out. You know that, right?"  
  
"We can't just pretend it didn't happen! How are we going to feel if we do nothing and then we read in the paper that he shot someone else?" Sam exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table, and in the curve of his jaw Dean saw, for the first time, _Sam_.  
  
He swallowed, pressing the sudden wave of _want_ as far down as he could, and shrugged. "All right, fine. So what are we going to do when we find him? Shoot him first and ask questions later? Or should we wait until he sticks a gun to our head, instead?"  
  
Sam fidgeted but didn't answer.  
  
"I'm glad you've got it all figured out, Sammy" Dean said, bitterly. "No way you're getting involved in this, you hear me? I don't like it. It's not gonna happen."  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Since when do you tell me what I can and can't do?" he asked, defiantly, and really, Dean had enough.  
  
"Since I care about whether you die or not, you selfish little shit! You forgotten about that?" he snapped, his eyes throwing daggers at Sam, and Sam actually looked taken aback.  
  
"Leave it to the police, Sam. I mean it." he concluded. "They get paid to get shot. We don't."

 

  
_I can't even go back and save someone who's just been shot_ , Dean thought, begrudgingly, _what's the use of fucking someone who can time travel, then?_  
  
His thoughts automatically deviated towards the _fucking_ part, as his brains reminded him what exactly was the use of it all. He was grinning to himself when a pointy elbow jammed against his side.  
  
"Am I boring you?" Sam inquired, snappily, and Dean blinked, as he stopped walking.  
  
"Was just spacing out, man! Geez, who pissed in your coffee?"  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "What is going on with you, Dean?"  
  
"Nothing!" Dean replied, a little too forcefully, and Sam clenched his jaw.  
  
"You sure about that? Because it seems to me like there is," he growled.  
  
Dean glared at him. "Listen, Sam, I'm tired of-"  
  
Tires screeching interrupted him and they had just the time to get down behind a car when the guy parked a few hundreds meters from them. "Shit," Sam hissed. "I knew we needed to do something about him."  
  
"Of course you did, princess," Dean hissed back, "so this is my fault, huh? That figures."  
  
Sam frowned. "I didn't say it was your fault, you self-centered jerk, you're not even _listening_ to me anymore..."  
  
"That's because most of the time you've got nothing interesting to say and you only piss me off!"  
  
Sam was shaking with rage. "You know what? Fuck off, Dean! I'm done with you," he snapped, before storming away.  
  
"You're not seriously finishing with me," Dean growled, following him, and Sam just threw him a cold glance. They stopped to check on the guy who had meanwhile gotten out of his car and was wandering around calling out for _Conti_ as he did.  
  
"Fine, let's talk about it then," Sam said, crossing his arms on his chest.   
  
"Do we have to do this right _now_?" Dean growled through gritted teeth, and Sam just stared back at him, defiantly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Dean sighed. "I know that things with us haven't been quite right for a while, now, but-"  
  
" _Quite_ right?" Sam snapped "you're so different lately that I barely recognize you! You've changed, Dean, and I don't even know what the hell anymore."  
  
Dean just shook his head. "So what? That's it?"  
  
Sam lowered his head. "I never wanted for us to get to this point," he murmured, "but something's not right, and deep down you know it too."  
  
Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to breathe slow. He didn't expect for it to hurt this bad.  
  
"Maybe I fucked it up?" Sam inquired, more to himself than to Dean, but Dean still felt compelled to reply.  
  
"No, Sammy, if someone fucked up it's most definitely me. And I'm sorry." He lied to him, and even if Sam might never know Dean would have to live with it.  
  
He bit his lower lip. "Let's not make any hasty decisions here, okay?" he said, looking everywhere but straight at Sam. "You've gotta know that I-"  
  
Quick steps were approaching, and they froze on the spot. It was so not the right time for a chick flick moment.  
  
"We need to move. Come on," Dean muttered, guiding Sam as far from the crazy guy as possible. Breaking up or not, if it was the last thing he did he would have protected his little brother.  
  
If they were both still alive, they'd have had plenty of chances to fix it, later on. 

 

  
Dean opened the door and found _Sam_ standing on the other side, his back turned.  
Figured that the guy was expecting him.  
  
"I did what you said," Dean started. "I let it _play out_ , and now Sammy hates me." He chuckled, bitterly. "He says we are over. Can't really blame him."  
  
 _Sam_ slowly turned towards him, and Dean tried to smile at him, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Is this really the way this is supposed to be? Does he have to hate me for things to go right?" he asked, flinching at how uneven his voice sounded.  
  
 _Sam_ just stepped closer and kissed him softly, a barely there brush meant more as a reassurance than anything else. "He would never hate you," he murmured, "but he loves you too much to think straight, right now. Trust him, De, trust _me_."  
  
And really, what was Dean supposed to reply to that?

 

  
"We should go away somewhere, when all this _there's a crazy ass freak gunning for our heads_ issue is solved."  
  
 _Sam_ rolled over and looked at Dean. "You talking about me and you, or _me_ and you?"  
  
Dean's gaze shifted. "I don't know," he answered, softly. "It's getting harder and harder for me to distinguish between the two of you."  
  
 _Sam_ 's mouth twitched. "Where would you like to go, anyway?"  
  
Dean offered him a small smile, grateful for the change of topic. He wasn't ready to dwell on how there was one Sam only shaping up in his heart. "Well, I've always wanted to go to Vegas, baby," he replied, with a dirty grin. "Your knowledge might come in handy, over there."  
  
 _Sam_ smiled back.  
  
"You'll go there" he said "I promise."  
  
Dean wanted to ask, _with whom?_ , he wanted to know what was going to happen, he wanted to know how the two perfect halves were going to mash into the love of his life, but couldn't.  
  
Partially because he knew _Sam_ wouldn't answer, but also because, for some weird reason, he didn't feel like knowing would have made any difference, not really.  
  
"I've got something for you," _Sam_ said, sitting up and shaking Dean out of his reverie.  
He took the chain off of his neck and dropped it in Dean's open palm, just like he did with the amulet what seemed a lifetime before. Hanging from the chain, a key. Dean frowned.  
  
"Now you can let yourself in," _Sam_ explained, "even if I'm not around."  
  
Dean would have probably noticed that there was something wrong with that sentence, or with the way _Sam_ 's eyes were shining, but his own eyes were closed and he was losing himself in another kiss, as _Sam_ 's half-hard dick slid against his own.  
  
He groaned and threw his head back, leaving all his worries and doubts on the side.  
He would pick them up later.

 

  
He was walking back to the motel, a few hours later, and the night was silent. He was lost in thoughts, and that's probably why he didn't hear the guy approaching until he hit him in the back of the head with his gun.

 

  
A bucket of ice cold water was thrown on him, and Dean came back to, sputtering and panting. He was hanging from a meat hook. "Fuck," he groaned.  
  
"Where is it, Conti?" the guy asked. "I want my money."  
  
"There is no Conti, you freak!" Dean snapped. "There is no money! There's only you trying to kill me and my brother!"  
  
The guy smirked. "Oh, so that's your brother, then," he said, ironically. "You must be fucked up in the head to look at your _brother_ like that."  
  
Dean grimaced, and the guy chuckled. "Well, whoever he is, why don't you call him and ask him to bring my hundred grand to the warehouse on Tipton street?"  
  
"Go to Hell," Dean growled, and the guy punched him in the stomach.  
  
"There's no rush," he gloated, as Dean growled in pain "I have all the time you need."

 

  
Sam was starting to worry. He hadn't heard from Dean in hours, and his phone was switched off. No Winchester would ever switch off his phone, not even after a fight like the one they had.  
  
Sam didn't mean it, of course he didn't mean it. He loved Dean, even if he did drive him mad most of the time. There was no way he could ever live without him, no way he'd ever be with anyone else knowing that someday he could be with Dean.  
  
He cursed, as he tried again and again he got the voicemail. "Where the fuck are you, De?" he grumbled.  
  
Right then his phone rang. "Dean?" he answered, hopeful, but a chuckle came from the other side of the phone.  
  
"Sorry, dude, not your brother. It's Ash."  
  
Sam felt disappointment wash over him. “Oh. Hey, man."  
  
"Wow, I feel loved," Ash said, jokingly.  
  
Sam sighed. "Sorry, things are...not good, at the moment. Dean's gone and I can't find him."  
  
"You working a case?" Ash asked, perking up.  
  
"Not really. I mean, there's this weird guy, in Queen Creek, that's going around in a red car shooting people, and asking for some dude called Conti to give his money back," he explained. "God, the more I think about it the more fucked up it sounds" he added to himself.  
  
Ash hummed. "This does ring a bell, I'm just not sure...was Queen Creek the town with the electrical storm?"  
  
"Yeah, that's the one."  
  
He made a pause. "Let me call you back", he said, and hung up. Sam blinked, but then shrugged and went back to trying to find Dean.

 

  
Half an hour later, Ash called. "I knew it sounded familiar!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Would have taken me a lot longer if a dude dressed in black and wearing a mask hadn't thrown the DVD at me, though." Sam frowned.  
  
The guy in the mask. Again. "Anyway," Ash went on, "it's a video game."  
  
Sam blinked. "Wait, what?"  
  
"This guy, the nut job? He's living the game. He was probably hooked up on it, playing like crazy when the storm hit, and now the game is in his head."  
  
Sam groaned. "What do we know about him?"  
  
"Well, he thinks he's Jimmy Cisco, who spent ten years in prison for armed robbery. This crime boss, Conti, double-crossed him and ran away with his money. His objective is killing the boss and get the money back."  
  
Sam's eyes went wide. "Oh, fuck," he exclaimed. "He thinks Dean is Conti!"  
  
"Why would he think that?" Ash asked, confused.  
  
"Because the jerk told him so himself," Sam hissed.  
  
Damn Dean and his goddamned mouth.  
  
"There's only one thing to do," Ash said. "You need to play the game for real."

 

  
"You just need to give me my money, Conti. I might even kill you quickly, if you do."  
  
Dean spitted in his face, and got a punch in the face for his trouble.  
  
"My, my, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" the guy growled.  
  
"I don't have your fucking money!" Dean snapped, but the guy just shook his head.  
  
"Don't play games with me, Conti. Also, Fat Tony says you've got an undercover cop in your organization. Is it true?"  
  
Dean gaped at him. "Are you for real?" he asked. "You sound like a computer game...and the reason why I don't play computer games is that they never end!"  
  
"Who's the cop?" the guy inquired again, ignoring Dean's comment.  
  
"There is no cop, you idiot," Dean replied, and the guy hit him again. And again.  
  
"I'm going to my car to get a chainsaw, and when I get back you're going to tell me who the undercover cop is," the guy explained, once Dean was bruised and could barely breathe without being choked by the pain.  
  
"Maybe it's your little brother _slash_ boyfriend?"  
  
"He's not my boyfriend!" Dean growled, and the guy smirked.  
  
"Oh, you split up? So this means you're available now, huh."  
  
"Not to you," Dean hissed, and the guy walked away, still laughing.  
  
"Where's that masked prick from the future when I need him?" Dean muttered, swaying back and forth trying to get more momentum to somersault off the hook. Not much luck with that so far.

 

  
The chainsaw was already whirring when the guy came back. He lowered Dean and approached, but Dean was faster than him and kicked him in the face. That made him lose the chainsaw, and gave Dean a handful of seconds to jump off and ran to the back of the warehouse.  
  
The guy took out his gun and followed him and, of course, Dean was unarmed. Again.  
  
He was too busy scouting the room for hiding places or anything he could use to defend himself, so he didn't notice the shadow following his movements from the roof. He didn't see how it was set on an open window and he didn't see how he was walking right under it.  
  
"Stop it, dammit!" he exclaimed when he found himself at a dead end, and the guy already had a triumphant look on his face.  
  
"Snap out of it, this is not real! Whatever you think you're seeing is not real!"   
  
The guy narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so you think it's _just a game_ , too?" he hissed, cocking his gun. "Let's see how bullets taste in this game, then."  
  
Dean heard a beeping sound right before the guy shot him, and then closed his eyes, ready for the impact. There was no impact, though. When he opened his eyes, _Sam_ was standing right in front of him, swaying on his feet.  
  
"Fuck no," he cursed. "No!"  
  
 _Sam_ dropped down, and Dean went on the floor with him, cradling his head. _Sam_ offered him a small smile before looking defiantly at the guy.  
  
"I'm the undercover cop," he growled, and a wall fell behind the guy's pupils.   
  
"Next level is busting Crazy Luke from prison," he stated in a metallic voice as he dropped the gun and walked away. Dean didn't even think about following him; _Sam_ was bleeding to death in his arms.  
  
"Hold on, Sammy, I'll get you an ambulance, yeah? You'll be fine, you'll see, we-"  
  
 _Sam_ shook his head, his cheeks pale. "You can't," he said in a whisper, "it has to be like this."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So we can be together," he answered, softly.  
  
His body went limp in Dean's arms and Dean shook him violently. "Sammy, come on! You're from the future, you were bound to know this would-"  
  
 _"I'm not going to let you die. That's why I'm here."  
  
"Now you can let yourself in, even if I'm not around."_  
  
Dean gaped at him. "You knew," he murmured. "You came back to the past to die for me."  
  
 _Sam_ nodded. "Well, I won't let you," Dean stated, feeling the corners of his eyes sting "I won't, okay? Don't ask me that."  
  
 _Sam_ wrapped his hand around Dean's clenched one and squeezed weakly. "You have to, or I'll never be this person."  
  
Dean bit his lower lip so hard that he drew blood. "I can't do this," he hissed, as his jaw trembled, but _Sam_ smiled softly.  
  
"It's going to be okay," he said, hoarsely, before searching his pockets with shaking fingers. "You have to do something else, too," he stated, offering Dean a small box and nodding towards a can next to them.  
  
"There's gasoline in there," he explained, and Dean's eyes went wide as he realized there were matches in the box.  
  
"Fuck no," he hissed. "You are fucking insane if you think I will-"  
  
"No one can know it's me, Dean!" _Sam_ growled.  
  
"Promise me you won't tell him. Promise me, Dean!"  
  
Dean swallowed. "You can't die, Sammy...I love you" he tried, weakly, knowing it wouldn't change _Sam_ 's mind but needing him to know nonetheless.  
  
 _Sam_ shook his head, slowly. "No, you don't. You love Sam, it has always been Sam. He'll still be here with you."  
  
Dean shook his head too, refusing to believe it. "It's not him, it's you!"  
  
 _Sam_ stared at him. "It's you falling in love with him that makes him become me, De," he said. "You don't know him yet, just give him a chance to show you, yeah? Don't be a thick-headed dick, for once."  
  
Dean nodded jerkily stubbornly ignoring the tears that were probably running down his cheeks. "It's all coming together," _Sam_ murmured. "It's gonna be okay."  
  
His body trembled in Dean's arms, before he breathed out one last time. Dean closed his eyes and tried to grab some control on himself, before fulfilling _Sam_ 's last wish.  
  
He owned the guy that much.

 

  
"Dean!” Sam ran towards him, his expression a mask of worry slowly fading into relief. "Thank God you're okay," he said, moving closer as if to hug him, but in the end just grabbing both his sleeves, where there was no risk of inadvertently touching his skin, and holding as tight as if his life depended on it.  
  
Dean's jaw was clenched, and the warehouse was in flames behind him. Blood and ashes striking his face, mixed with those few tears he allowed himself to cry. He coughed, trying to let fresh air back into his burning lungs.  
  
He could still feel _Sam_ 's body heat against his chest, and the pain of losing him was as strong as it would have been if it had been this Sam the one who just died in Dean's arms.  
Two sides of the same coin, two parts of the same man who completed Dean's soul.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sammy," he stuttered, his voice straining to contain all that he was feeling. "I'm so fucking sorry. Please, let's just...I'm sorry, I can't lose you, not you too."  
  
Sam clenched his fists, his eyes watery, and nodded. "Can't lose you either, bro," he replied, equally pained.  
  
"When I saw the smoke come out of the building, I thought-" He looked away.  
  
"I keep losing everything I love to fire," he murmured, and Dean felt his chest clench.  
He felt the same way.

 

  
"The computer guy, he...they arrested him," Sam said, showing him the article. "He was trying to break into a prison."  
  
Dean grabbed the newspaper and balled it. "That's what happened when you play computer games," he tried to joke. "They fuck with your brain."  
  
Sam shrugged and drank his juice, his gaze wandering outside of the diner's window. Dean just kept staring at him, trying to catch a glance, a gesture, a glimpse of _Sam_ in him, and after a while Sam blinked and stared back.  
  
"Is everything alright, De?" he asked, frowning, and Dean nodded.  
  
"Sure, why shouldn't it be?" he replied, more bitterly than he'd have wanted to. "Listen, I was thinking," he added, right after. "Let's finish breakfast, pack our stuff and beat off, yeah? I'm done with this shithole of town."  
  
Sam blinked, but swallowed what was left of his glass and stood up. Then he grabbed a napkin from the table, laid it on Dean's mouth and kissed him softly, blushing furiously as he stepped back.  
  
Dean arched an eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining, but...what was that for?"  
  
Sam offered him a small smile. "I'm not going to die and I didn't lose you, and I'm feeling pretty happy about it," he answered.  
  
Dean reached out for him, stopping right before he made contact with Sam's cheek, and stood up as well. "Go on and start, I have one last thing to do before we leave.

 

  
_Sam_ 's place was empty and silent. Dean walked straight to the wall: at the end, right after the Polaroids depicting those last few days, there were some picture _Sam_ never let him look at.  
  
He wasn't there to stop him anymore, though. The last one, in the far corner, was a picture of both of them in front of the Las Vegas welcoming sign; Dean took it off the wall, with trembling fingers, and stuck it into his wallet.  
  
It was all he had left of _Sam_.  
  
For now.

 


	5. Cupid shot his gun

  
"Morning," Dean greeted Sam, who blinked and stopped, surprised, as he took one of his earphones off.  
  
"I've been calling you for the last half mile, man," Dean panted, recovering his breath. "You didn't hear, 'cause of the music."  
  
"Sorry. What are you doing up so early?" Sam inquired, and Dean shrugged.  
  
"You always run in the morning, and after what happened with that crazy dude I thought I might need some exercise as well, so I followed you," he explained, waving a hand dismissively.  
  
"But if you're embarrassed to be seen with me, it's okay," he added as an afterthought gesturing at his clothes and the way he was already sweating profusely.  
  
"No!" Sam exclaimed, rushingly. "I'd never be embarrassed to be seen with you, De, don't be ridiculous. I-I'd love for you to run with me."  
  
Dean nodded, relieved. "Good, then. Go easy on me, though, I'm out of practice."  
  
"You're getting too old for this" Sam mocked him, and Dean gasped, frozen on the spot. _Sam_.  
  
Seeing he was not moving, Sam arched an eyebrow. "Ready, then?"  
  
Dean shook his head to clear it a little, and jogged after Sam. "What are you listening to?" he asked, to clear the air.  
  
"Echo & The Bunnymen" Sam answered, and Dean snorted.  
  
"Never heard of them, _obviously_."  
  
Sam offered him an earphone. "Try them, they might surprise you."  
  
Dean eyed him warily, but put the earphone in.  
  
After a few steps he grimaced and gave it back. "This is really depressing, Sammy" he whined. "Please, stop being such a stereotype of the emo troubled youth, it's irking and damages my reputation."  
  
Sam made a sound quite similar to a giggle, before gaining speed and leaving Dean behind. "Now, don't be a dick!" Dean shouted, trying to catch up with him.  
  
"Let's see what you got, Grandpa!" Sam shouted back, with a wide grin.  
  
"I'll show you Grandpa," Dean muttered, dead set on reaching him and making him sorry. He didn't even noticed he was smiling back.

 

  
"Hi," the waitress said, her eyes going wide as they stopped on Sam. "What can I get you boys?"  
  
Sam fidgeted under the scrutiny, and Dean glared at her from the other side of the booth.  
  
"I, uh. I'll get a salad," he said in the end, and she just nodded without even looking at her pad.  
  
"I want a burger. And fries. And a beer. Now," Dean stated, his eyes still throwing daggers at her. As soon as she was gone, he leaned in towards Sam.  
  
"It's her," he hissed, and Sam frowned.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"We're here looking for the supernatural fucker who killed or lead to suicide six guys already, right?" Dean explained.  
  
"What disguise would be better than a cute, smiley, shy waitress? I think she's the one. Probably a succubus, or something equally skanky."  
  
Sam crossed his arms on his chest. "We have no idea who she is, Dean. We can't jump to conclusions like that," he pointed out, but Dean rolled his eyes.  
  
"Come on, Sam, be smart! We've been here, what, ten minutes, and she has already been hitting on you?"  
  
"She didn't hit on me, she just-"  
  
"Look! Look!" Dean pointed at where the girl was picking up some water bottles from a box under the counter. "She's right there, bent over, pointing her cute ass at you. How do you call that, uh?"  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow.  
  
"I call it _doing hard work and earning her salary_ , Dean."  
  
"But you are looking, aren't you?"  
  
Sam glared at him.  
  
"What am I supposed to do? Poke my eyes out with a stick? Besides, you are looking too."  
  
Dean was about to reply, but the girl came back to their table.  
  
"Sorry, we were out of fresh lettuce so Marie went to get some. It will take a little longer than usual for your salad," she said, apologetically, and Sam shook his head, smiling at her.  
  
"It's okay, there's no rush," he replied.  
  
"So, are you going to do the run?" the girl asked then. When Sam just stared, looking confused, she explained. "It's a charity event, organized by the community center to collect money for the homeless. I saw you this morning in the park, maybe you should sign up. What do you think?"  
  
Sam blushed slightly. "Uh, I just...I don't like competitions," he said, looking at Dean for help, but Dean looked away, still pissed at how friendly he was being, apparently.  
  
The girl suddenly gasped, catching Sam's glance and misunderstanding it completely. "Oh, my God, I'm sorry. I'm being too pushy, am I? I didn't mean to bother you. I just talk too much when I'm nervous," she blurted out.  
  
"Why would you be nervous?" Sam inquired, frowning, and she chuckled.  
  
"It's my worst defect: when I meet a cute guy, I totally lose my cool. I should just go kill myself, right now."  
  
Sam blinked. "I, uh, it's okay. I don't think you should do that," he said, tentatively, and she chuckled again.  
  
"Well, I wasn't entirely serious, you know," she reassured him, and Sam chuckled as well, nervously.  
  
"Of course not. That was a joke."  
  
"A crappy, poor one," Dean pointed out, and Sam kicked his chair. The girl looked at Dean, and Dean just looked back, defiantly. _You're hitting on the wrong guy, you cute, psycho bitch, and I'm onto you_ he thought.  
  
"It's everything okay?" Sam asked, when he saw her expression change. She offered him a small smile.  
  
"Yeah, it's fine. Lettuce should be here by now, let me go check on your salad," she replied, making a hasty retreat into the kitchen.  
  
"Jesus, she _is_ after you!" Dean growled, evidently pissed.   
  
"You freaked her out, Dean," Sam hissed. "Leave the poor girl alone, until you have at least some proof!"  
  
Dean huffed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Should I wait until she smashes your head against a sink until your brains dribble out of your ears?" he asked, mockingly, and Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
"Stop being melodramatic, man. We're talking about a succubus, here, not a butch serial killer."   
  
"Yeah, sure, worst she'd do would be fuck you to death! Which would be so much better!" Sam groaned.  
  
"Have you seen this girl? She wouldn't do that."  
  
Dean glared at him, feeling more pissed than worried. "How do you know, Sam? You don't know anything about her."  
  
"I know succubus are usually sex bombs and seduce guys, don't talk their ears off or blush to the roots of their hair," Sam pointed out, but Dean was already shaking his head.  
  
"Come on, dude, it's so obvious! It all adds up. With all the pent-up sexual tension and the weird shit that happens to you, it makes perfect sense. Besides, she's chosen your type. Knew you'd go for it."  
  
Sam blinked. "That means absolutely nothing" he retorted, and Dean groaned in frustration.  
  
"Really? She's way too beautiful for being a waitress, and she's even interested in charity events! I remember similar scenarios, and they all end the same way. Supernatural skanks always go for your head, Sammy."  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Oh, so that's what this is about," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You think that if a girl likes me, there must be something wrong with her."  
  
Dean's eyes went wide. "Wha-no! That's not what I'm thinking!" he protested, but Sam was already standing up.  
  
"That's weird," he said, coldly. “Because that's exactly what you're saying, Dean. And considering that you're supposed to be _into_ me, I really don't know what is says about _you_."  
  
"Sam, wait-"  
  
But before Dean could finish the sentence, Sam was already on his way to the counter.  
  
"Would you like to go for a drink with me tonight?" he asked, and Dean could see the girl's cheeks turn purple. "You could tell me more about the charity run," Sam added.  
  
The girl beamed at him.  
  
"I'd love to. Where-where do you want to go?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "You're the one from around here. What do you suggest?"  
  
"The bar on the estate," she replied. "They do the best fries in town. Don't tell my boss I said that, though."  
  
Sam nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said, defiantly glaring at Dean, and Dean felt like someone had taken the floor from under his feet. And he had only himself to blame.

 

  
Dean had stopped by the diner to grab some pie and booze to drown his sadness and found the waitress still there, apparently at the end of her shift. He grabbed her card to clock in, but her boss snatched it away.  
  
"What are you doing?" she hissed, trying to get the card back. "It's late, and I have somewhere to be."  
  
"Come on, you know I like you," the man purred in her ear, pulling her closer, but she pushed him away.  
  
"Get off me, Chris!" she exclaimed, her eyes throwing daggers at him. "Don't touch me!"  
  
The man narrowed his eyes.  
  
"You're such a little prick tease," he growled. "I don't fire you only because I know you're gonna cave at some point."  
  
She curled her arms around her chest. "I quit, you asshole," she snapped. "Stay away from me."  
  
"Jessica!" he called after her, but she was already gone. Dean even saw a few tears in her eyes. Maybe he was wrong about her.

 

  
He was laying on his bed, eating chicken wings straight from the carton and watching some disgusting show about spiders when the transmissions were suddenly interrupted for special news.  
  
Apparently Chris, the owner of the Dunkin' Diner, was found brutally murdered in an alley behind his establishment, with his throat sliced.  
  
Dean's head snapped up, and he threw the bucket on the side, jumping from the bed and grabbing his jacket. Where was Sam meeting her for drinks, again?

 

  
Both Bobby's _and_ Ash's phones were switched off, and Dean was seriously panicking.  
After searching a few places, he finally managed to find the right one, and he could only hope they were still in the bar by the time he'd get there.  
  
Even if he had busted in, what was he going to say?  
  
 _You know the cute, shy, smiley waitress I thought was a killer? Well, she just killed some other guy!_ Something told him Sam wouldn't have believed him unless he saw it with his own eyes, and he guessed she wasn't going to make a move until they were alone, so he settled outside the bar.  
  
In his mind, he kept hearing the speaker of the TV show as he talked in that annoying, know-it-all tone Dean learned to both hate and love at the same time because yeah, it irked the hello out of him, but it also meant home.  
  
Love.  
  
Sam.  
  
"This kind of shit only happens to us," he muttered to himself. Still, waiting for a possible killer slash succubus to try to kill his little brother was about the least weird thing that had happened to him lately, and really, that was saying a lot.

 

  
"My mum died of cancer," Jessica explained, playing with the label of her beer bottle, "and I wanted to do something, you know, that's why I helped setting up the charity run."  
  
Sam cringed. "Sorry about your mom," he said. "I lost mine too. I know how it feels."  
  
Jessica smiled sadly at him. "That is the last thing I hoped we had in common."  
  
Sam shrugged.  
  
"Okay, so what are you doing in town? Business or pleasure?" she asked, changing the topic.  
  
Sam bit his lower lip. "A little of both, I guess" he replied, vaguely. "I'm on a road trip with my brother, and we pick jobs here and there to keep us going."  
  
"So that's your brother, then?" Sam nodded, and Jessica sighed.  
  
"You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's okay."  
  
Sam blinked, and she chuckled. "I saw the way he looks at you, Sam. And I saw the way you look back when you think he won't notice."  
  
Sam blushed and looked away. He didn't know they were being so obvious. Jessica patted his arm. "Hey, no harm, no foul!" she reassured him, with a smile. "I'm fine with being a way to make him jealous."  
  
Sam's eyes went wide. "Wha-no, that's not what this is about! I just..."  
  
She arched an eyebrow, and Sam deflated. "I'm sorry," he said.  
  
She shook her head. "Get me drunk and I'll forgive you."  
  
Sam smiled tentatively. "Sounds like a plan."

 

  
_Why am I even here?_ Dean asked himself. He knew it was not only because the girl might be a psycho; if that had been the case, he'd have just stormed in, gun at the ready and blown her brains out.  
  
Besides, it was not like Sam and him were big pals, lately. Maybe he did worry and care about him more than he had been letting on, after all. "The little bastard got under my skin," he muttered, and smiled at the thought.  
  
 _Sam_ had been right, and man, how much he hated it when Sam was right, either from present or future. It annoyed him to no end. Lost in thought, he didn't notice Sam and Jessica exit the bar until they were walking straight towards him, so he had just the time to hide behind a wall.  
  
Sam waved at a cab, and when it stopped next to them, Jessica stood on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips.  
  
"I really wanted to do that," she murmured. Sam was staring at her, his lips half open, and she blinked, cupping his cheek.  
  
"You okay?" she asked.  
  
Sam shook his head.  
  
"Yeah, I'm great, I just-it's been such a long time since someone kissed me," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
She smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast, then. And think about the run, okay?"  
  
Sam nodded and watched the cab until it turned the corner and he couldn't see it anymore.  
  
"Come out, Dean, I know you're there," he called out then, rolling his eyes, and Dean stepped out, slightly ashamed.  
  
"You're the worst spy in the world," he muttered.  
  
"I was just hanging out around here!" Dean protested, but Sam just shook his head.  
  
"Whatever, man. What do you want? Why were you following me?"  
  
Dean's gaze shifted. "I was worried about you," he grumbled.  
  
"You don't need to be," Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.  
  
"Tell that to Jessica's dead boss, all right?" he snapped. "There was blood bubbling out of his throat, and he was gurgling and shit-disgusting stuff, even for us!"  
  
Sam shrugged. "Burglary," he said, and Dean glared at him.  
  
"Burglary? Seriously? That's the best you can come up with?"  
  
"Well, since you're so smart, answer this: how did she do that when she was in the bar with me, uh, genius?" Sam retorted.  
  
Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but couldn't come up with anything. "Why would I make it up?" he tried, and Sam arched an eyebrow.  
  
"Maybe because you're so fucking jealous you can't see what's right in front of your nose," he replied, bitterly.  
  
"Why would I be jealous?" Dean protested, feeling cornered and not liking it one bit. "Look at me: hot. Look at you: not so much. I have no reason to worry."  
  
The way Sam flinched told him that maybe his choice of words had been the wrong one, but they didn't have time for that right now. "Slicing throats is not really a succubus M.O., though," Dean added in a rush, trying to change the topic. "So maybe it's not a succubus we are up against. Maybe she's like one of those bitch spiders: they lure you into their web, they fuck you, then they kill you and eat your face."  
  
Sam crossed his arms, the look of hurt and disappointment still marring his expression. "Well, be as it may we need bait, whichever supernatural son of a bitch it is, right? And I'm already in, so we better go all the way," he stated.  
  
"I'm signing up for the charity run."  
  
Dean stepped closer. "Sam, no. It's too dangerous."  
  
Sam narrowed his eyes. "I don't think it's her, Dean, and you seem dead set on it. You've got to let me do this. Besides, _you have no reason to worry_ , right? One way or another," he concluded, ironically.  
  
They stared at each other, but in the end Dean was the one who had to look away. Curse his inability of denying Sam anything, but most of all curse Sam's goddamned puppy eyes, that even when his baby brother was pissed would have charmed the pants off of him any given day.  
  
"Stay away from Jessica, in the meantime," Sam demanded before walking away.  
  
"You're the one who should do that," Dean muttered, but Sam was already too far to hear him. His life was _so_ not fair.

 

  
Sam was handing out the numbers for the runners when Jessica spotted him and waved, joining him.  
  
"I'm sorry about your boss," Sam said, conversationally, and she waved a hand dismissively.  
  
"He was a jerk. He abused his power, tried to put his hands on us and mistreated us when we refused. I can't really say I'm sorry."  
  
Sam nodded, understandingly. She had all the reasons in the world to think like that. "So, you changed your mind then?" she asked pointing at the labels in Sam's hands, hope lacing her words.  
  
Sam chuckled. "I was apparently too late to sign up for the run, so I'm just helping out, for now. We'll see about the actual event."  
  
Jessica huffed, but didn't insist. A couple of participants stopped by to get their numbers, and she waited for them to be gone before she turned towards Sam again and offering him a couple of purple tickets.  
  
"The charity's having a party tonight," she explained when Sam frowned. "I thought you and your _brother_ might like to come. Take a break from whatever you're doing."  
  
Sam stared at her, more and more convinced that it couldn't be her. Jessica was not a killer.  
  
"Of course," he replied, taking the tickets from her hands. "I'm sure Dean will be ecstatic. He loves parties."  
  
Jessica giggled, then stepped away. "I should get to the start...whether you run or not, come find me afterward, okay? We can drink a soda and talk some more. If you don't have any prior engagement, that is."  
  
Sam thought about Dean's sour expression and his snappy words and shrugged. "No, nothing planned."  
  
She arched an eyebrow. "You fought again."  
  
Sam's gaze shifted. "We don't do much else, lately," he muttered, and Jessica patted his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sure it's just a phase," she said. "but maybe you should talk to him. Maybe it's just not meant to be, have you thought about that?"  
  
Sam grimaced, but gently pushed her towards the agglomeration of participants. "You'll miss the start," he pointed out. Jessica seemed to want to add something, but in the end just nodded and jogged away.  
  
Sam waved at her, before seeing Dean signing at him to go to him from behind the curb.  
He sighed and obeyed.

 

  
"Look, what's so difficult to believe?" Dean growled, evidently frustrated. "How many times cute girls on crime scenes are actually _just_ cute girls? Honestly!"  
  
Sam glared at him. "Did you actually see Jessica kill him?" he inquired.  
  
"No," Dean replied, snappily, "but I didn't have to. It was written all over her cute little face. And those tickets? Are obviously a guilty present!"  
  
Sam huffed, but Dean was apparently not done. He leaned in and hissed, straight in Sam's ear "I'm telling you, there's something seriously wrong with that girl."  
  
"Aside from wanting me?" Sam retorted, bitterly, and Dean looked taken aback.  
  
"Sammy..." he started, but Sam just lifted a hand.  
  
"Leave it. I really don't wanna hear it. Just so you know, Jessica invited us to a party tonight, and I am going. With or without you."  
  
He turned and walked away, and Dean really couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, you know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe I am jealous," he admitted, his voice a little louder making Sam freeze on the spot.  
  
"Screw that, I'm madly jealous," he added, in a lower tone, "but I'm done trying to force you into doing what I want. And I hope that you and Jessica are very happy together, if that's what you choose."  
  
Dean's stomach flipped, as he clenched his fists so tight his knuckles went white. Only he knew how much those words were costing him. _Sam_ 's words, the way he believed Sam loved him so much he could barely understand it, kept tossing and turning in his brain.  
This didn't make any sense.  
  
Maybe _Sam_ really lied to him all along? Maybe it wasn't true that Sam and him were destined to be together, maybe-  
  
A hand squeezed his arm softly from over his jacket. He looked up, and Sam was looking at him with a frustrated, albeit affectionate expression.  
  
"You're an idiot," he said.  
  
"You're an idiot if you think I'm going to risk losing you for a waitress in Bumfuck, Ohio."  
  
Dean, who was about to make a petulant remark about Sam's comment, was blocked half way by the rest of the sentence.  
  
"You're it for me, you ass," Sam added, his eyes tender, and really, Dean was so done with the goddamned chick flick moment that was doing all sorts of weird things to his insides.  
  
"Of course I am," he replied, with a smug smirk. "Once you go Dean, you never go back!"  
  
Sam rolled his eyes, muttering some random curse, and stomped away towards the track. Only once his back was turned and Dean was sure he was not going to turn, he released a breath he didn't know he was holding and let his relief show on his face.  
  
"I wasn't serious," he murmured to himself, "of course I wasn't. When am I ever serious?"  
  
It didn't matter right now, though. He needed to be at the goddamned party, to keep an eye on her. Because yeah, Sam had just declared his undying gay love for him, but with a sneaky tramp like Jessica he couldn't be sure.  
  
Besides, she was still his prime suspect, and the party was going to be too perfect an opportunity for another murder. He most definitely couldn't risk it, he decided, even if it meant wearing a suit. At least he'd make Sam drool.

 

  
"How did it go?" Sam asked, once Jessica had changed and joined him outside the center.  
  
"I beat my personal best," she answered, beaming at him.  
  
"That's great!" Sam exclaimed, hugging her, and she let her fingertips roam on his biceps.  
  
He pulled back, clearing his throat. "Jessica..."  
  
She smiled softly. "Can I have a celebratory kiss?" she murmured.  
  
Sam looked away. "You know I don't..."  
  
"It's okay," she interrupted him. "Just a small one. Please?"  
  
Before he could answer, Jessica was leaning in, but their lips just brushed because the sound of approaching steps made them separate.  
  
"Jess?" a male voice called.  
  
"Damn, it's my dad," she groaned, pointing at the blank looking man standing next to a car with a sour expression.  
  
"We were supposed to have lunch together. He's always so punctual."  
  
She caressed Sam's cheek. "Hold that thought for the party, yeah?" Sam swallowed.   
  
"Sure" he replied, without really looking at her. Jessica's father's eyes kept on him until they had driven away.

 

  
Everyone was dressed smartly at the party. Jessica herself was wearing a long, black dress and her dark hair had been arranged so to leave her shoulders bare.  
  
"She looks...nice," Sam commented, dismissively, as she went from one guest to another, greeting them and thanking them for coming.  
  
"Sure does," Dean grumbled. "A cute, slutty, murdering supernatural psychopath."  
  
Sam glared at him. "You never know when to stop, do you?" he hissed, storming away.  
  
Dean groaned inwardly, and moved away to keep observing the scene. Luckily, party was quite formal, so the people were milling around the room but no one got too close to him.  
He really didn't need a sex-crazed charitable MILF in the equation.  
  
That's when he noticed the creepy over forty guy who was staring with narrowed eyes at Sam and Jessica chatting next to the buffet table. He frowned, and when the guy moved he followed him anyway, from a respectful distance, but lost him when a waiter almost bumped into him.  
  
He cursed through gritted teeth. Something was not right, and that dude was not even dressed as required.

 

  
The tall, dark haired guy was whistling as he washed his hands. He didn't notice the shadow right behind him until the knife had pierced through. He choked on a pained moan, before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he fell in a heap on the floor.  
  
The man took the knife out and cleaned the blade with a corner of the guy's suit jacket, smirking.  
  
"No one touches my little girl," he growled at the guy that couldn't hear him anymore, then he turned the body around and gasped, his expression turning furious.  
  
"You're not him!" he exclaimed, kicking the body and storming out, looking for the filthy pig that dared put his dirty paws on his precious princess.  
  
He'd find him, and he'd make him pay.

 

  
Dean was getting nervous. Screw that, he was full-on panicking. He had been browsing around, looking for either Sam or Jessica, but without any results.  
  
"Fuck," he growled. "Where the fuck are they?"  
  
The center was not _that_ big, dammit! That's when he saw the door ajar and the red smudges on the wall next to it.  
  
His own blood turned to ice in his veins, as he approached and pushed the door open: on the floor, lying on his stomach in a pool of his own blood, there was a very tall guy with a mop of brown hair, dressed in a rented dark suit.  
  
"Sam!" Dean shouted, dropping on his knees and all but crawling towards the unmoving body. "Christ, no! Sammy!"  
  
His voice cracked, as he grabbed the body with shaky fingers and turned it, dreading eating away at him.  
  
Milky white skin and cherry red lips greeted him from a nameless, expressionless face that-was not Sam.  
  
"Oh God, thank you," Dean murmured, letting the guy's head go and standing back up, his heart beating away like a scared rabbit.  
  
He had to find Sam. He had to. He couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.  
  
He pulled his sleeves down as much as he could over his hands and started running.

 

  
"What is it?" Sam asked, letting Jessica pull him along. She said she had something to show him, but now that they were in a dark corridor he wasn't so sure he trusted her so much anymore.  
  
Dean's words kept echoing in his mind, and he was about to just tell her off and walk away when she stopped and turned, wrapping her arms around Sam's neck and pulling him down for a kiss, taking advantage of his mouth open in shock to try and deepen the kiss.  
  
For a split second, Sam froze, lost in a feeling so foreign for him after all that time, but it only lasted until green eyes and freckled skin flashed behind his eyelids, and he pulled away.

"Jessica, no," he said, firmly. She tried to get closer again, and he stopped her with a hand splayed on her chest. Her heart was racing and she was looking so lost and beautiful that Sam felt lost, too. Of their own volition, his fingers cupped her cheek and he didn't stop her when she stepped closer again.  
  
That's when they heard the growl.  
  
Jessica looked up and her eyes went wide.  
  
"Dad?" she gasped, recognizing him as the man stepped into the weak moonlight coming from the window.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked nervously, her arms crossing protectively on her chest, but he didn't even see her. His bloodshot eyes were focused on Sam, his mouth twisted in a grimace.  
  
"What have you done to her?" he hissed, darkness seeping in his tone, and Sam moved in front of Jessica to shield her.  
  
The man put a hand under his trench coat and pulled a butcher knife out.  
  
"What have you _done_ to my little girl?" he inquired again, his voice louder and hoarse, and Sam gaped at him.  
  
"I can't believe it," he muttered. "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"Dad, no! What are you doing?" Jessica shouted, throwing herself at him, and Sam, who was about to attack him, stopped to avoid hitting her. The man, however, didn't hesitate, and curled a hand around Sam's neck, tightening his grip until Sam started gasping for air.  
  
"Daddy! Daddy, please," Jessica begged, pulling at his father's other arm, but in vain. Sam's gaze was fixed on the man's red-rimmed, crazy eyes, as his brain tried to process that no, there had been nothing supernatural or otherworldly in those deaths.  
  
Just a father's love gone bad. His vision was starting to blur, when he heard familiar steps approaching.  
  
"You let my brother go, you pathetic and useless son of a bitch!" Dean roared, and a loud metal _konk_ was heard when he hit the back of the man's head with a fire extinguisher.  
  
"I knew you'd come for me," Sam murmured, right before everything faded to black.

 

  
"So...you were right in the end."  
  
Sam arched an eyebrow. "I was?"  
  
Dean waved a hand dismissively. "She didn't try to brutally murder you, after all."  
  
Sam snorted. "No, her father did."  
  
Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, that doesn't count. And I really can't wait to see how well that carebear will do in prison." They sat in silence for a while, the Impala's purring engine the only sound to accompany them, before Sam broke it again.  
  
"Jessica isn't, nor has ever been, a psychopathic killer," he said. "She's only a girl who knows what she wants and isn't ashamed to try to get it."  
  
Dean narrowed her eyes. "So she did try to get it."  
  
Sam looked away, and Dean clenched his fists. "I knew there was something wrong with her," he hissed, but Sam just chuckled.  
  
"Well, there isn't anymore," he replied, calmly.  
  
Dean hummed. "You sure about that?"  
  
Sam put his hand on Dean's knee and squeezed. "Yep."  
  
Then he turned to look at the landscape rolling by outside of the car window, and Dean threw a quick glance at him. Sam was safe and sound, he loved him and there was nothing else Dean would have wanted, right then.  
  
Curses, brothers from the future and feelings he still didn't understand notwithstanding. _Maybe this is what it feels like to be a superhero_ , he thought.

 


	6. Bound to linger on

 

  
Sam had been weird since the case in Ohio, and Dean really couldn't blame him. He knew his brother loved him, that went without saying, but he also knew Sam wanted more.  
  
Not that he'd ever ask for it, probably too scared that Dean could lose control again. There was no way, no how Dean could have convinced Sam to trust him; he didn't even trust himself, not yet.  
  
Still, he had to do something for his little brother, because what he felt was growing with each passing day, and the little glimpses of _Sam_ Dean kept seeing were getting more frequent.  
  
"So, how's Jessica doing?" Sam didn't lift his head from the book he was reading, but his back went stiff. "She's trying to cope with what happened to her dad," he muttered. "Not like she wants to see me, or anyone else for all that matters, so."  
  
Dean nodded, even if Sam couldn't see him, as his little brother shrugged.  
  
"Well, I mean seeing a girl whose dad tried to kill you-it's not like it was ever going to work, right?" Sam stated, bitterly.  
  
Dean threw him a glance. "Because of course seeing your older brother, who you can't even touch, is going to work just fine," he hissed.  
  
Sam cringed. "No, I-it's different with us," he mumbled, finally looking at Dean.  
  
"How?" Dean inquired.  
  
Sam offered him a small smile. "Just trust me on this."  
  
Dean shook his head. "I can't, Sammy," he murmured "I can't. How am I supposed to-I want you. I want to touch you, I want to make love to you. The right way." He looked away, with a bitter snort. "And instead it's all _stay over there_ and _don't get too close_. We can't even sleep together!"  
  
Sam lowered his own head. "Well, pot to kettle, Dean," he retorted, sourly. "Don't you think I'm confused too? Don't you think I want you just as bad?" He swallowed, and Dean couldn't stop his words, that rolled out like his mouth had been a broken dam.  
  
"The only difference is all of this is on me. I'm the one who somehow fucked up bad enough to call this on our heads, I'm the one who fucked up once more and took advantage of it to provoke something you asked me not to take. And I don't know what to do, I don't know how to deal with this, Sammy."  
  
"But you want to be with me?" Sam asked, his voice wavering, and Dean looks straight at him, no bullshit or barriers, for once, before he nodded, slowly.  
  
"Okay," Sam murmured. "Okay. Then we'll be alright."  
  
Dean wanted to believe him so bad, just as bad as he wanted to believe _Sam_ , but it couldn't be that easy, could it? "You can't touch me, man," he protested. "How are we supposed to do this?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "I don't want to," he replied, and Dean flinched.  
  
"Oh yeah? Because I do, Sam. I _really_ do." He leaned closer, until his hand was mere inches from Sam's on the table. Sam left out a shaky breath.  
  
"And I really want you to-but you can't. That's not all that I want from us."  
  
They looked at their hands, the same longing reflected in their eyes, before Sam's gaze turned to Dean once more. "How do we-you know? There must be a way. I mean, I could do without, but you..."  
  
Dean would probably feel offended, if that wasn't the truth. "We need to work something out," he muttered, sounding probably a little more predatory than he should have, and he saw Sam fidget on his barroom stool.  
  
"How about phone sex?" he suggested, half joking, and Dean actually considered it for a moment.  
  
If he couldn't feel Sam coming, hearing him would have probably been the best alternative, unless... "How about phone sex without the phone?" he inquired.  
  
Sam, who was already blushing fiercely, frowned. "How would that work?"  
  
Dean smirked. "You sit on your bed and I sit on mine," he explained, in a low, silky tone. "We stare at each other and jerk ourselves off."  
  
Sam breath hitched. "What?" he grunted out, his eyes fixed on Dean's groin.  
  
Dean licked his lips and cupped his half-hard cock, rubbing slowly. "Whatcha say, baby boy?" he purred. "Wanna try?"  
  
Sam's eyes almost jumped out of his skull, as he scrambled up and all but ran to pay their bill.  
Dean chuckled, before standing up as well.  
  
_**I could do without** my ass_ , Dean thought, shaking his head affectionately.

 

 

  
  
When Sam entered the motel room (he got tackled by the old lady at the reception) Dean was waiting for him, his hands already grabbing at his t-shirt, but he didn't pull it away and off until Sam's eyes zeroed on him.  
  
He undid his jeans and skimmed out of them, kicking them away and then sitting on a bed, his legs open, showing his erection already shiny with precome. "Heya, Sammy" he said, leaning back.  
  
Sam tripped on his shoes in the haste of taking them off, and Dean chuckled softly, as he wrapped his hand around his cock and started playing with it, lazily. "Come on, baby," he called out, hoarsely. "Wanna see you."  
  
Sam swallowed and nodded furiously before finally climbing on the other bed, mirroring Dean's position. His cheeks were flushed, and his gaze shifted between Dean's face and his hand, as if he was not sure he was allowed.  
  
"You can watch," Dean encouraged him, picking up speed ,"Watch the way my dick is hard for you, Sammy. It wants inside you so bad, you know? Your perfect mouth, your perfect ass-just inside you."  
  
"D-Dean" Sam stuttered, his breath already ragged, as he started jacking off too, with a lot less finesse than Dean.  
  
"Slow down, tiger, or you'll be done way too soon," Dean warned him, but Sam shrugged.  
  
"Can't," he replied, "want to-need to come."  
  
Dean nodded. "Okay, baby," he purred.  
  
"Why don't you play with your balls then? Yeah, just like that," he added when he saw Sam's long fingers following his advice. "So full and heavy, aren't they?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, and started to thrust in his fist with renewed vigor.  
  
Sam was incredible, and apparently Dean was not going to last that long either. "Should see yourself, Sammy, so fucking hot," he panted, as Sam whimpered.  
  
"Not-it's still not enough," he whined, the purplish head of his cock appearing and disappearing against his palm, and Dean groaned.  
  
"Fuck yourself open," he growled, and Sam's eyes went wide.  
  
"W-wha-"  
  
"With your fingers" Dean hissed through gritted teeth, "fuck your ass imagining it's my cock, instead."  
  
Sam looked lost for a moment, torn between lust and confusion. "I don't know how," he almost sobbed, and Dean had to clam his fist around the base of his dick hard, bordering pain, to stop himself from coming on the spot.  
  
Sam's inexperience had no business being so hot. Now he got why _Sam_ said Dean got off on teaching him...  
  
"On all fours," Dean urged him as soon as he knew he was not going to shoot. "Then spread your legs and do it."  
  
Sam's knees were shaking, but Sam obeyed anyway and the way he submitted so easily hit Dean like a whip between his shoulder blades. Then Sam sucked two fingers and shove them inside his body, and Dean's eyes actually rolled in the back of his head.  
  
"Wanna fuck you," he growled, "I have to fuck you, Sammy, Christ, please."  
  
Sam turned slightly, his eyes dark with lust. "Don't," he hissed. "Don't talk to me like that Dean, don't. I won't be able to deny you for long, want you to fuck me so bad I can taste it. But we can't, not yet."  
  
Dean nodded shakily, then started fisting his cock as his eyes were glued to Sam's fingers scissoring in and out of his ass, so wet and hungry for it that they were almost sucked in every time Sam got them out. "Gonna come soon, De," Sam warned him, panting hard and humping the bed.  
  
"Me too," Dean replied, then a thought hit him. "You trust me, don't you, baby boy?" he asked, and Sam stilled. "Tell me you trust me," he repeated, his voice slightly firmer.  
  
Sam swallowed, but then nodded, once, before resuming his movements. Dean felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and stood up, walking towards the other bed, stopping right behind Sam.  
  
Sam stared at him from above his shoulder. "Oh, fuck, you're gonna-"  
  
Dean licked his lips. "You want it?"  
  
The ridiculously loud moan Sam let out was a good enough answer; not like he was going to be able to stop, anyway. "Touch yourself," he ordered, feeling the familiar tingling sensation at the base of his spine. "Touch yourself and come with me."  
  
Sam freed his fingers, whimpering at the loss and not wasting any time in wrapping that hand around his dick. It only took three pumps for him to release himself all over the bed with a shout. Then, he lifted his ass higher, laying his head on the pillow and offering it to Dean.  
  
"Come on, bro," he encouraged Dean in a hoarse, fucked up voice. "Do it."  
  
Dean bit his lower lip, rubbed the callous pad of his thumb against the head and he was done for, releasing spurt after spurt that landed all over Sam's ass and his lower back. Sam was almost sobbing as he felt Dean's come dribbling down his thighs, and Dean was not too far behind.  
  
He staggered back to the other bed, where he sat down, breathing hard. "Fuck, that was..."  
  
Sam rolled around and offered him a small, sated smile. "Better than I thought" he murmured. "We should definitely make it a repeated performance."  
  
Dean was nodding even before he had the actual time to process the question. Sam sighed happily and closed his eyes, snuggling in the pillow, and only then Dean realized they switched beds.  
  
His cock gave a half-hearted twitch at the idea of having naked, come-covered Sam in _his_ bed and Dean cleared his throat. "When you say _repeated_ , what were you thinking of, exactly?"  
  
Sam's gaze shifted towards Dean's groin and Sam chuckled. "From today until the end of time," Sam replied, and his answer made Dean cringe inwardly. Was that the best they were going to have? Was that all he was going to be able to give Sam?  
  
"...De?" Sam's voice sounded dubious and hesitant, and Dean shook his head and reassured him with a smug smirk. That was not the moment for ominous thoughts.  
  
They'd have time for those after he made Sam come dry.

 

 

  
They were bound to pass through Arizona again, at some point-Dean just didn't expect for it to be so soon after everything that happened and, most of all, right after he and Sam had become, well. A couple.  
  
It still sounded weird, and no matter how much time passed, Dean was never, ever going to get used to him and his baby brother in a relationship. Which of course was still less weird than what he had with his baby brother _from the future_ , but still.  
  
He even tried to talk to Sam about that, but apparently the little freak wasn't fazed at all by the major shift in their dynamic. He kept saying stuff like _it's not the what, it's the why_ and _we just have to stick together_ and _do it with me_ and really, Dean was so far gone that he usually dropped it by then.  
  
There was so much trust, love and adoration in Sam's eyes when he looked at Dean that he understood how Sam could have no doubts about them. He did wonder what did Sam saw in his eyes that made him so sure, though.

 

 

  
Dean was desperately trying to sleep, but couldn't. There were so many thoughts racing through his mind, now that they were so close to _Sam_ 's place and the warehouse that had become his grave.  
  
His fingers were curled around the key to the underground garage, as he did his best not to just stand up, get dressed and go. He was with Sam now, he shouldn't dwell on the past.  
  
But most of all, he couldn't risk for Sam to find out that-  
  
"You awake?" Sam's murmur sounded pretty loud in the silence of the room.  
"Yeah," Dean replied. "Can't sleep."  
  
"Same here."  
  
Dean turned towards him, despite the fact they couldn't really see each other. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sam sighed, then he sat up. "Nothing," he started. "It's just-I thought I'd feel like we'd made it, you know? Instead it all feels a bit..."  
  
Dean swallowed. "Pointless?"  
  
"No!" Sam gasped. "Yes. I don't know, man."  
  
"He knew it would be like this," Dean muttered, realizing only after the words were out that he was really not supposed to say that.  
  
"Who you talking about?" Sam immediately inquired.  
  
Dean couldn't tell the truth, but maybe he could get close enough. "The man in the mask," he replied. " He said I had to just let my life play out and not force it. I should've listened to him."  
  
Sam huffed. "And once again, he knows a lot about us and our lives while we have no damn clue, and you're unfazed by it," he grumbled, obviously irked. "Do you know where he is?"  
  
Dean flinched, glad for the darkness surrounding them. "No, I-I haven't seen him since we left Arizona."  
  
Sam made a noncommittal noise and laid back down. Dean stayed silent, observing the lump through the darkness, until he could hear Sam's breathing even out.  
  
"You damn liar," he murmured, "how can you say that the years you spent risking your life over and over with me were the best time of your life, when I can see perfectly well how torn and unhappy you are?"  
  
He would have liked to think that a statement like that demonstrated _Sam_ 's rather low expectations, but for the life of him, he couldn't. And he couldn't mainly because _Sam_ had been right, and only now Dean understood what he meant.  
  
_What the hell is up with me?_ , he asked himself as he stood up and got dressed as fast and silently as he possibly could. Once he was out of the room, Sam sat back up in his bed, frowning.  
  
"I never said that," he murmured to himself. Somehow, he felt it was important, so he grabbed the first shirt and pants he could find and followed Dean.

 

 

  
Dean was laying on _Sam_ 's bed, curled up on his side, and his gaze was focused on the picture in his hands, the one with Sam and him in Vegas. His chest was aching so bad at the thought that they might never get to have it, that he didn't hear Sam coming in until he gasped and asked, in a slightly wavering voice, "When was that taken?"  
  
Dean's eyes snapped up and he paled, seeing his baby brother staring at him like he had seen a monster. "Where did you get that?" Sam inquired again, pointing at the picture with a shaky finger.  
  
Dean swallowed and lowered his head. "Someone gave it to me," he muttered, vaguely, unable to look him in the eyes.  
  
"Who?" Sam hissed. "Dammit, Dean, talk to me!" He snapped when Dean remained silent. "What's going on? What the hell is this place?"  
  
He opened his arms wide, and turned towards the Polaroids and clocks on the wall. Dean cringed at Sam's tone. He was pissed, and Dean really couldn't blame him.  
  
"The guy in the mask," he started. "He lived here."  
  
Sam's back stiffened as he took in all the pictures of them. "Who is he," he growled, not even asking anymore, and Dean knew better than lie at this point.  
  
"He _was_ you."  
  
Sam's sharp intake of breath and the way his fists clenched told Dean all about the way he was feeling. "Tell me everything," he demanded, and Dean mentally apologized to _Sam_ for not being able to give the man the only thing he had ever asked for.

 

 

  
"And so you came back," Dean concluded, "so that I could fall in love with you in the future."  
  
Sam was holding the picture and his fingers were shaking."You...you're in love with me?"  
  
Dean's gaze shifted from side to side, until a small smile appeared on his face. "I was," he murmured, "and I will be again, forever, hopefully. If you let me?" His voice became hesitant and slightly hopeful at the end of the sentence, and Sam slowly turned towards him, doubt and confusion plain to see in his eyes.  
  
Dean snorted. "You think _you_ are surprised? Imagine being me," he retorted.  
  
Sam blinked, and Dean knew that he had been misunderstood again. "I just mean that you're still you, Sammy, but you're different somehow," he explained, softly. "You're gonna become more confident, and-the curse won't affect you anymore."  
  
There was a sudden spark in Sam's eyes at those words, a spark that spoke of hope and wishful thinking, and for a moment his brother looked so beautiful that Dean had to look away.  
  
"I will touch you," Sam murmured, his voice cracking "I will-Jesus." He swallowed. "And then I will die?" Dean knew that there could have been a joke about his killer dick in there somewhere, but that was not the right moment.  
  
"No, Sammy," he stated. "You won't. You came back to save my life so that none of us would die, this time."  
  
Sam blinked, confused, and Dean sighed, clenching his hands in his lap. "You saved my life. I was the one who should have died in that warehouse."  
  
Sam's eyes went wide, and Dean could see how hard he was holding on to the covers not to pull Dean in a tight hug, to make sure he was still there. "You said that if you didn't come back and die, I would have, and you would have never become the person you needed to be. _I_ needed you to be."  
  
"But still, I-"  
  
"You protected us," Dean interrupted him, squeezing Sam's arm from over his jacket, "like a proper superhero, you know?"  
  
That at least got a small smile from Sam. "So, what happens now?" he asked after a while.  
  
Dean snorted. "I have no fucking idea, dude."  
  
"And when am I supposed to turn into this- _superhero_ , anyway?"  
  
"You already started," Dean replied. _Because I have already started falling for you_.

 

 

  
"That's it, then. It's over."  
  
Dean threw a glance at Sam, as he tried to focus on the road in front of them at the same time.  
"No more secrets, no more lies. Just us."  
  
Dean shrugged. "Guess so."  
  
Sam stared at him. "What is it? Come on, spit it out," he inquired.  
  
"I thought we'd be, like, all celebrating and shit at this point," Dean said, waving his hand dismissively. "But it doesn't really feel like there's much to celebrate."  
  
Sam sighed. "De, being here, with you, really is the best time of my life," he murmured, softly. "The me from the future was right."  
  
Dean felt his chest clench. "I spent a week at a hot spring for a job while you were at Stanford, and that was way better," he tried to joke, but Sam's piercing stare told him he was not buying it.  
  
"What's up with you, man?" he said then. "All the shit we've been through, a doomed incestuous relationship..." Sam chuckled.  
  
"We're here" he replied. "We're alive, and we're together. As far as I can see, we've pretty much made it."  
  
"But other than that, we've pretty much got fuck all going for us" Dean retorted. "What are we gonna do tomorrow? Or the day after that?"  
  
Sam grabbed Dean's over shirt and pulled it down until it completely covered his hand, then he grabbed it. Dean turned abruptly towards him, eyes wide, and was met with a blinding, dimpled smile.  
  
"You know, apart from all the killing and the dying and stuff, this hunting life really isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be when I was a kid," Sam stated, lowering the window and letting the countryside air fill the habitacle. "Let's just enjoy it."  
  
"You're such a girl," Dean muttered, shaking his head and pretending to be annoyed, but he didn't pull his hand away. Of course, he did whine about how his baby had suffered driving all those miles in the same gear, but Sam couldn't really feel sorry about that.

  


 

  
**BONUS ART**

  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Not Coming Down From:**[bed](http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Bed)  
>  **Clawed Chained Heart:** anxious  
>  **Under The Spell Of:** Kleerup "Until we bleed"


End file.
